


A Void Between Two Stars

by EHyde



Series: Alien Larp AU [8]
Category: Akatsuki no Yona | Yona of the Dawn
Genre: Artificial Intelligence, Gen, Sci-Fi AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-03-18 00:23:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13670412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EHyde/pseuds/EHyde
Summary: Suwon is an AI leading Kouka in a rebellion against his former extraterrestrial masters. When the connection between the AI and its human host is severed, Suwon–both of them–must learn to live as only half of himself, while Judo faces the challenge trying to figure out which one, man or machine, is truly his king.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For more info about this AU, you can see my [series masterpost](http://fallenwithstyle.tumblr.com/post/170856229099/alien-larp-au-masterpost) on my blog, or check out the link in the series description. 
> 
> Many thanks to my beta readers @greymantleish and @luckyfilbert!

The first thing he knew—the only thing he knew—was pain. Piercing, blinding pain in his…head? yes, that, and so intense he could imagine nothing else. Brightness overloaded his sensors (was that right?) and the ringing in his ears almost drowned out the sound of a loud, frantic voice.

He tried to cling to that voice. Despite the angry tone it felt comforting, familiar—but it wasn’t enough. Why couldn’t he ignore the pain? If he could just...let this body go for a while…

The pain was duller now, pounding, throbbing...had time passed? And the light was gone, but—something was wrong. Why couldn’t he see? Where was the rest of the world? If he could just think straight...but everything was gone.

No, not all gone. Someone was still calling for him. That voice… “General Judo,” he said. “You’re still here.”

Silence, and he wondered if he’d imagined the general’s voice all along. Then— “Thank god, you're awake. Your Majesty—what the hell happened? Were you poisoned?”

He didn’t have all the information he needed to answer that question.

“Can you hear me? Say something!”

He could hear Judo, but he needed speakers to answer, didn’t he? Where were they?

“Goddammit, Your Majesty, what’s wrong?”

That question was slightly easier to answer. “Everything’s gone,” he said. “I can’t reach any of my peripherals. My cameras aren’t working. I can’t see you, General!” That felt important. Why that, more than anything else? If only the pain in his head would go away so that he could think!

Pain. That was…some part of him could feel pain. A body could feel pain. And a body could speak, like he spoke. He had a body.

“Try opening your eyes,” Judo suggested.

He did. Judo’s face looked down on him, brow furrowed with worry, a dark shadow wreathed by a halo of bright light. It took a moment longer to realize that his own body had a shape, had a position. He was lying on his back, and Judo knelt over him. “Can you move?” Judo asked.

He lifted a hand in front of his face. “Yes,” he said.

Judo took that hand in a firm grip and pulled him upright. “What happened?” Judo repeated. But he still couldn’t answer. After a brief silence, Judo sighed. “It’s a damn good thing you’re ‘Won’ today. If anyone saw the king like this—”

 _Won_. Was that who he was? No, that wasn’t quite right. He was—

He was Kouka’s planetary AI and Kouka’s king. He oversaw the entire world, his mind—his true mind, not this human brain—linked to dozens of satellites, to his allies’ ships and computer consoles, to this host body. This host body that should not, _could_ not be all that he was. What had happened?

He looked around. The light was dimmer now—no, it had been dim all along; his eyes were only now adjusting. Not too dim to make out wooden crates stacked high against the distant walls...they were in a warehouse. “You brought me in here when I started acting strange,” he surmised.

“’Acting strange? _Acting strange?_ ’” asked Judo. “The way you started screaming, I thought you were going to die! And then you just stopped! When you wouldn’t answer I tried using that—device—but you didn’t answer that, either.”

If Judo’s communicator couldn’t reach him—couldn’t reach the mainframe—then the problem wasn’t here with this body. His satellites, then? “It's a tea merchant’s warehouse,” he said, still making sense of his surroundings. “The one who supplies the palace.” Was that relevant? He should be able to process every piece of information nearly instantaneously, but this human mind couldn’t keep up, couldn’t tell what to ignore and what to focus on. Judo just looked at him. “We're in Kuuto,” he added. They’d come to Kuuto this morning, he remembered, to meet in secret with a party from Xing, to brief them on the situation with the Company and learn if Xing would stand with Kouka. That had gone rather well, which was good, because the Company—

The Company knew he was their enemy.

That was the relevant piece.

“Your Majesty?” Judo asked.

How long had it taken him to think through what should have been obvious in an instant? And how much time had he lost before that, lying unconscious? He stood up. “We have to go back to the castle,” he said. “I’ve been attacked.”

* * *

Damn. Damn! When Suwon was taken by that strange fit, Judo should have known that his mainframe was in danger. But his instincts were too strong: he’d never been able to stop thinking of _this_ Suwon as his king, and he couldn’t leave him in such a state. How many hours had it been? He grabbed Suwon’s hand and hoped he could keep up.

The castle’s secret entrances meant they could head straight for the lower levels where the mainframe stood, thankfully. Kuuto’s townspeople might not recognize the two men pushing through the crowd, but getting past castle guards and officials without raising a fuss would have been a different matter. Judo didn't think about going for backup.  Months had passed since Suwon first trusted him with his true nature, and still he was the only one in the palace—aside from Keishuk—who knew. That all might be about to change—but they were nearly there. No time. His swords would have to be enough.

He took stock of the room as they entered. Four alien monsters—all aven, those feathered and scaled creatures who comprised nearly all of the offworlders Judo had met—stood on guard while a fifth stood by the mainframe. “More natives?” exclaimed one of the guards, but before he could raise his weapon to aim, Judo rushed him, knocking him to the floor, his weapon clattering out of reach. These bird people sure were fragile, when you got down to it.

“Demons!” Suwon exclaimed from behind him. “Demons in Hiryuu Castle!” Was he so out of it he couldn't even remember the people who’d built him? Or—

“Stand down, these two don't know anything,” said the fifth aven. So this was the leader. They were set apart by their coloration as well as their position, white with a few speckles of black feathers while the others were a mix of darker browns and green. “Do you want to cause even more of an incident?”

The other three guards, who had raised their weapons as soon as Judo attacked, lowered them. _Even more—?_ Near the corner, a sixth aven knelt bound and restrained; next to them, a man lay sprawled on the floor. Gyoku. The king’s other personal guard, Muah, was nowhere in sight. Judo could only hope that his absence meant he had gone for backup—and that Gyoku was only unconscious and not dead. How had they known to come down here? Or—the aven prisoner’s clothing. Was that Keishuk? Judo had only seen Keishuk’s true form once before, but it had to be.

As the aven guards lowered their weapons, Judo lowered his swords. He didn’t even remember drawing them. Glancing back, he saw that Suwon had a hand on his hilt, too—and a look of utter terror on his face. Not afraid of the aven, surely. Then what—?

Behind the aven, the shell of Suwon’s mainframe was split open, spilling out dozens of loose wires. The pale aven’s calm demeanor, and the delicate tool they held, suggested that this had all been done carefully, but the image before him reminded Judo of nothing more than a dying man on a battlefield. Just as he was about to raise his swords again, Suwon placed his hand on Judo’s, holding him back. He was trembling. Just what had the aven done to him?

The pale aven began to speak. “Humans, there is no need to fear. We have come here to...to destroy a great evil!”

They hardly believed what they were saying, Judo could tell even through the artificially-translated tones. Still, Suwon responded in kind. “Ah? Is that so?” Judo saw him cast a glance back at Keishuk—who gave an almost-imperceptible nod in return. Backup was on the way. They were only buying time. Judo didn't like to think he needed backup against only three enemies, but he knew those weapons. Just one hit could send a man unconscious or even kill him.

“...yes. This structure is home to an evil spirit. When I dismantle it, your land will be safe again.” They turned back to the mainframe.

“Wait!” Suwon cried out. But when the aven looked back, he hesitated. _Come on, Your Majesty._ The king should be quicker on his feet.

“Why should we trust monsters like you?” Judo growled.

“Because me and my people understand these things. Now—”

“You should have told the king,” said Suwon. “Instead of sneaking into the castle like assassins.”

“Unfortunately your king has been—” Suwon glanced back at the entrance again. _Not subtle at all, Your Majesty._ “You're stalling,” the aven realized. “You humans—you think you can interfere—” They spun back around, reaching to cut more wires free of the metal box. In a flash, Judo drew his swords. He rushed the guards, leaping in front of the aven, sword out to block their reach. Then a jolt, and a wave of numbness swept down one half of his body. Judo stumbled—he'd been shot—and still the aven reached their clawed hand toward the device that was the king’s mind.

Down Judo sliced with his offhand sword. With a spray of black blood, the aven’s severed hand fell to the floor. They stared at their wrist—feathers sticky with blood—as if they couldn't quite understand what had just happened.

Judo turned back around to face the guards, struggling to keep his balance against his stunned limbs, and found one of the three guards staring at him, eyes wide and feathers upright, shaking in fear. As Judo met their gaze their weapon clattered to the floor and they lifted their arms in surrender. Suwon, sword drawn, had already disarmed the other two, and anyone besides Judo might not have noticed him shaking.

“You—you cut off my hand!” the leader of the group finally cried out.

Judo ignored him. “Your Majesty,” he said. “Are you all right?” He gritted his teeth as he herded all the aven into a tight group at the center of the room, well away from the mainframe. He hoped none of them would realize how much damage that one shot had done. But he could still walk and he could still fight, and without their weapons these bird-men stood no chance. They knew it, too.

“I—” Suwon’s eyes flickered to the mainframe from across the room. “I don’t...know.” He stepped closer, narrowing his eyes at the injured leader. “What have you done to me?”

“I—I didn’t touch you!”

“No,” said Suwon. “To _me._ ” He cast his eyes back and forth. “Power core blown, but past that—” A grimace of frustration crossed his face. “Keishuk, tell me what I'm seeing.”

Right, Keishuk. Suwon was still staring hard at the aven, so Judo cut Keishuk free as well. He stood up and ruffled his feathers. Even though Judo had seen his aven form before, it had only been for a few seconds. It would take some doing, thinking of the black aven as the king’s advisor.

Keishuk glanced at Suwon, the dark crest of feathers behind his head lifted at a curious tilt. “Computer…” he began—the word he always used to address the king in private.

“You’re the _host?_ ” the injured aven interrupted. “Impossible! You shouldn't be aware at all!”

“It's true I am much less than I once was,” said Suwon. He narrowed his eyes. “That means you have my full attention. What did you do?”

The king didn't draw his sword, but the threat was clear regardless. Under normal circumstances, Judo always found it a pleasure to watch people suddenly realize they should have taken the king far more seriously than they had. Right now, he was too worried.

“Nothing permanent!” the aven hastily said. “This is...you're...a valuable piece of equipment. Destroying it would be a last resort.” He  glanced back at an open case sitting at the base of the mainframe. In it sat an array of what appeared to be etched crystal rods, as well as other objects whose nature Judo couldn’t fathom. “Everything’s—preserved in its current state, for study—it’s just—”

“Just an overblown power core, blown out connectors…” said Keishuk. Judo could still recognize his scowl. “It would be easy enough to fix on a civilized planet.”

Suwon stepped over to the case, gazing down at its contents with an odd expression of reverence. Then he sat down on the floor, closed the case and clutched it to his chest, staring at—what, if anything, Judo couldn’t tell. “Your Majesty?”

Suwon didn’t answer. _So much for his full attention._ But the king had done what was needed, after all; if he hadn’t lowered the aliens’ guard, things might have turned out very differently. _Dammit, what have you monsters done to him?_

Footsteps sounded at the door. “General! Your Majesty!” Muah had returned with a squadron of soldiers. “What—?”

“Take these prisoners away,” said Judo. “And fetch a doctor.”

“You—you keep your primitive medical technology away from me!” One of the aven guards was tying a makeshift bandage around the leader’s wrist.

“Not for _you_ ,” Judo growled. They were clearly in pain, but that suited Judo just fine. They’d need them alive, but right now, he’d be damned if he’d help! “The king and Gyoku both need attention.” As for himself, he could feel the life coming back into his limbs already.

“Not here,” muttered Suwon. Right. Not here with the mainframe, which already too many had seen.

“Right. The prisoners first.”

“General,” Gyoku began. “What is this? What happened?”

“All you need to know is that this was an attempt on the king’s life. Treat them accordingly—just keep them alive.”

The soldiers rounded up the prisoners. “Hey. Come along,” growled one of them, prodding an aven with his sword.

“What the hell are you doing?” Judo demanded as he caught up with what he was seeing. “That’s Lord Keishuk!”

“But—”

“He’s not a traitor, alright?” Ugh, he hadn't even considered the headache that _that_ would cause.

“You—you can't do this to us!” one of the prisoners cried out, as if they'd only just realized what was happening to them. “We’re not part of your world. You can't just stick us in some dungeon like the dark ages, we have rights!”

“Ignore them,” sad Judo. “They tried to kill the king.”

“Your king isn't what you think,” said the leader. “He's not even human, he's not a person at all—”

Judo punched them across the jaw.

“Their translators,” said Keishuk. “Best not to let them speak.”

“Right,” said Judo. “Strip them of all their personal belongings,” he commanded.

Keishuk stepped in front of the prisoners. “You're lucky there's an aven doctor in Kouka,” he said. “I'll send for them. But with the methods of communication you've left us with, it will take some time. You’re going to lose that hand.”

Of course they'd lose their hand—it was already cut off, wasn’t it?

“You've really done it,” said the aven. “I thought there must be a mistake in the briefing. You've allied yourself with a rogue planetary AI. Do you know how dangerous—?”

“The question is, do you?” Keishuk nodded at the soldiers, then scowled as they did nothing. Judo gave a nod to confirm, and they finally led the prisoners out of the room. Muah stayed behind, finally going to Gyoku’s side now the prisoners were dealt with. Gyoku groaned as Muah turned him over—he'd be all right.

“Take him to the castle doctor,” said Judo. “I’ll see to His Majesty.”

“General, what—what happened here?” But the look Judo shot him must have convinced him that now was not the time for questions. Muah lifted his comrade and carried him out of the room, and then Judo, Keishuk, and Suwon were left alone. Alone with the lifeless shell of Suwon’s mind.

“Your Majesty,” Judo said again. “Are you all right?”

Suwon still didn’t respond.

“That person was right,” said Keishuk. “It’s amazing he was as coherent as he was.”

“He was getting better. At first—” He’d gone from screaming and clutching his head in pain to unresponsive to, Judo had thought, almost acting like himself again. But now… “You’d better call off his meetings this afternoon,” Judo decided. “Can you stop looking...like that?”

“No,” Keishuk replied, feathers twitching. “ _Everything_ stopped working, General.”

 _Great._ “Then I'll call off the king's meetings.” Reminded once again how little he still understood, Judo looked around the room again. He was used to thinking of the mainframe’s chamber as silent, but it hadn’t been, not at all. The low humming of machinery, the whirring of fans, had been his king’s breath and heartbeat.

Now they were gone. Judo had been too late, and now he didn’t know the first thing about how to help his king.

“Probably not,” said Suwon.

“What?”

“Your question,” said Suwon. “I’m probably not all right.”


	2. Chapter 2

“How did this happen?” Judo paced across the cold stone floor, ignoring the waves of pain that coursed through the right half of his body with each step he took. Bizarre and pointless for a weapon to do that, anyway. In stark contrast to his movement—necessitating his movement—his king sat silent and motionless. Suwon had said he was safe here, he’d said he could defend himself! And Judo, like a fool, had believed him. “I should have placed a rotation of guards down here from the start, I should have—”

“It wouldn't have helped,” said Keishuk. “All they were doing here was taking him apart; the damage was already done.”

“But they were—”

“If you didn't come and they succeeded in taking his memory, it would be far worse. But the blown out power core, that means…”

“Means what?”

“I’m trying to figure out to explain it to someone who barely understands electricity,” Keishuk snapped, his crest of raven-dark feathers twitching upwards. “Our technology—and that includes the AI—isn’t magic. My holomask and computer console, your communicator and weapons, they all need power. Since Kouka isn’t set up to produce that kind of power, it’s self-contained, brought from outside. And what the attackers did, is they fired a pulse that caused those power sources to overload.”

“...something like their blast rays, you mean?”

Keishuk sighed. “In that it’s an energy weapon, yes. It doesn’t hurt people, though, and the range is much greater. This was probably fired from orbit.”

“Atmosphere,” said Suwon. It was the first thing he’d said in nearly half an hour.

“Atmosphere, then,” said Keishuk. “The mainframe is shielded against attacks like that—nothing appears to be damaged except the power core and its immediate connections. Replace the power core, fix the wiring, and he’d be fine.”

Judo shot another look at Suwon. He’d now removed the golden cuff from his hair and was staring at it intently. _The sooner the better._ “But you said that kind of power can’t be made in Kouka.”

“Right.”

Suwon let the golden hair cuff roll out of his hand, echoing against the walls of the stone chamber as it clattered to the floor. He looked up. “There's a jeweler in Kuuto with the skill to rewire my broken circuitry, if you can show him what to do.”

“That won't help us without a power core, computer.”

“...yes,” said Suwon, looking off into empty space again.

_He’s still in there. He’s not gone. He’s just...a little out of focus._ He was incredibly pale, too—obvious even in this room’s dim light—and Judo remembered his fit from earlier, their frantic run to the palace from the city. “Your Majesty, you need food and rest.”

“No, it has to be a miniaturized fusion power core, class 24 or higher.”

“ _You,_ king. Not the computer, you.”

“I'm not...I am...my body...I’m my body.”

“ _Yes,_ king.” Judo sighed. “As soon as Muah gets back here with the guards, I’m taking you to the doctor.”

“My body isn’t hurt. It’s just...it’s just my body.”

Judo didn’t believe it. “How’s your head?” At that, Keishuk shot Suwon a sharp glance.

“Not even a headache! And the guards...they shouldn't see this place.”

“Your Majesty, if that...pulse...was fired from the sky, that means they had a ship. A ship which is unaccounted for. There may still be more of them. I am _not_ leaving any part of you alone!” Suwon didn't object, but he didn't agree either. “We won’t tell them what they’re guarding,” Judo said. “But Your Majesty, your secrets aren’t worth more than your life.”

By the time Muah returned, Keishuk had finished everything that could be done without more equipment. “The pulse was localized,” he said. “All of Lady Yonhi’s equipment at the university should still work fine.” Yonhi herself had been away from Kouka for over a month, on an offworld mission to obtain a ship—one that no one would be able to say had been stolen or captured—for Kouka’s future diplomatic use. Judo didn’t even want to think about what kind of trouble she might find herself in, if the Company went after her too.

Nothing he could do about that from here. Maybe they didn’t know to look for her. “Well then, you’ll have to ride out and get it. Or—” Judo looked Keishuk’s aven form up and down, and remembered the soldier who’d nearly arrested him. Familiar clothing aside, no one was going to recognize him as the king’s advisor. “I suppose you can’t go anywhere by yourself, can you?” Even within the palace, it would be all to easy for an overzealous guard to cut him down unknowing, and then where would they be? It was known that the king had aven allies, but in the wake of an attack...Judo sighed. “I’ll escort you to your quarters for tonight,” he said. “Come on.” The king remained seated on the cold stone floor. “You too, Your Majesty. You…” He winced as he amended his words. “Your body needs rest.” Finally, Suwon took his hand.

Even walking by the king and the Sky General’s side, many of the palace staff stopped in their tracks or gave Keishuk startled looks as they passed. This problem wouldn’t go away, but Judo couldn’t think about it tonight. Finally, they ran into someone Judo knew Keishuk could trust. “Minsu,” he greeted the boy. “Go with Lord Keishuk to his room tonight, see to his needs.”

Minsu’s eyes widened. “This is...Lord Keishuk, you’re aven?” He looked almost betrayed by the revelation, and Judo belatedly remembered that coming from Suwon’s household, he’d known Keishuk for longer than anyone but Suwon himself.

Judo didn’t have time to worry about that, either. “Just make sure no one thinks he doesn’t belong here.”

Minsu looked to Suwon. “Your Majesty…?”

“Keishuk saved my life,” said Suwon. “As did General Judo. Please trust them.”

“...yes, Your Majesty.”

When they reached the king’s chambers, Judo spoke up. “Saved your life?”

“Keishuk and Muah and Gyoku may not have stopped them, but they bought us time.”

Judo understood that, of course. “But...your life?”

“If they’d taken these—” he indicated the box of crystal rods, which he’d refused to part with— “then no matter if the machine ever worked again or not, it would never be me.”

And where would that leave the man Judo spoke to right now? Surely he was alive. Surely he wasn’t anyone other than the king. “...I see,” was all Judo said. “Now, Your Majesty, I’ll send the doctor for you—”

“No need,” said Suwon in a tone that took no argument. “Really, General. I just need to...think. For a long time.”

“Make sure you have a meal brought!”

Suwon smiled. “Of course, of course! You rest, too,” he added. “You were stunned. Even if you don’t feel it now, it took a lot out of you.”

_He saw that?_ “Yes, Your Majesty. Then—goodnight.”

But when Judo left the king’s chambers, it wasn’t to go to his own. Suwon and Keishuk, they both could solve this, could figure out how to make the computer work again. Judo couldn’t help them, but that didn’t mean there was nothing he could do. He made his way to the dungeon. After all, he had prisoners to question.

* * *

Judo tossed and turned in his bed. He had never seen the appeal of pointless torture—though if anything were to bring that out in him, it would be this!—and the aven had all talked readily enough, leaving the night free to be filled in by aches, nightmares, and worst-case scenarios. The prisoners’ answers only served to show him just how over their heads they were. Damn! They were going to be sitting ducks for the Company, weren’t they?

Usually when he couldn’t sleep, he would go to the room that housed the king’s mechanical mind and they would continue discussing the business of the day. Sometimes Suwon would project images onto his viewscreen—maps, or pictures of the world above, or even the illuminated image of his own face, simply there to add a physical presence to their conversation as his human body slept. That moving portrait was yet another reminder that his king wasn’t human, but it always felt closer than his formless voice.

Judo came down here by habit, and it was only the sight of guards at the door that reminded him he would find no companionship here tonight.

“General,” said a guard, a worried expression on his face. “The king is—”

Or was he wrong? Somehow, was his king back? He stepped inside. “Your Majesty?”

“Only this body, I’m afraid,” Suwon’s voice echoed out of the darkness, small and lonely. “I’m still gone.”

In the dim candlelight, Judo saw disheveled, loose hair and rumpled sleeping clothes. No wonder the guard was worried. “You shouldn’t be here. You should be asleep.”

A long pause. Were they doing this again? But, Judo realized, the guards probably shouldn’t overhear whatever the king had to say, anyway. He stepped forward and took the king’s hand. “If you want to talk, Your Majesty, let’s go for a walk.”

The guards, and the unnatural quiet of the chamber, had reminded Judo of how much that room had first reminded him of a prison cell. Under the clear night sky, the king’s silence didn’t feel as stifling. “I can’t ignore this body’s dreams now,” Suwon spoke finally. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“...you could ignore them before?”

Suwon shrugged. “They were as irrelevant as remembering to breathe.”

_That’s pretty damn relevant,_ Judo wanted to say—but when was the last time he’d _thought_ about breathing? Well, damn. He wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it _now._

Anyway.

“I didn’t realize dreams could be so...disturbing,” said Suwon. “And yet, I can’t even remember it.”

“I was questioning the prisoners,” Judo offered as an explanation for his own sleepless night.

“Without their translators?”

“I took one of them and used it myself.” He’d been familiar with the concept. While aven like Keishuk who had been living in Kouka for years knew how to speak the language properly, some visitors instead wore a device that translated their words as they spoke. It was weird, adding uncomfortable pauses to conversations while the translator caught up, but it got the job done. And it was a good thing Judo had done it this way—the things they’d said about the king! If the prison guards had understood even half of that, they’d have never let Judo leave it at “confidential.”

“They must have talked,” said Suwon. “You made quite the dashing impression when you leapt to my rescue.”

Not that it had been any use. Still, he hadn’t even needed to draw a sword to get them to speak. That was something, at least. “They weren’t warriors, that’s for sure.”

“No, they wouldn’t be.”

“...king?” The aven leader had allowed someone to treat their wrist, sometime before Judo had got there. But the protests they’d made about that treatment made no sense. “Is it true that an aven doctor could sew their hand back on, good as new?”

“Ah…” Suwon fell silent.

“It’s just—that sort of thing. The ones that built you can do all that—”

Suwon didn’t respond. An awkward silence later, he finally spoke. “I don’t remember. About the medicine. I used to know, but it’s gone.”

And the next piece of information Judo had to report might mean they were left to stand against the wonders of that world with nothing but their swords. “They had two ships,” he said. “One that could land, and one they called a carrier. The carrier—Your Majesty, they’re taking away your satellites.” Which meant that even if Suwon’s mainframe started working again—and it would take a miracle at this point, wouldn’t it?—he wouldn’t be able to do half of what he’d done before. Wouldn’t be able to watch the skies, contact their allies, track their enemies—

Their allies. Lady Yonhi might be out of reach for now—and she had Ayura and Tetora with her, hell, even the former queen Seihwa knew what she was doing out there—but would they be captured when they returned, all because Suwon couldn’t send a warning? And Princess Yona’s ship was still here, in orbit, just waiting for their carrier. She’d chosen to forego the king’s protection, but even so—

The king only stared at the sky, as if trying to spot those satellites with his own two eyes. “Your Majesty?” Was he thinking through the implications of this too, or simply lost inside his human mind again? “Your Majesty?” he repeated after another pause.

Suwon blinked. “The sky looks so empty,” he said. “I should be able to see so much farther.”

“It’s still the same sky, king.” But as he spoke, a shooting star blazed across the heavens, brighter than any he’d seen. If Judo hadn’t known better, he’d say it had landed in the mountains above the castle.

Beside him, Suwon stiffened. “That meteor...I have a bad feeling.” Shooting stars should be good omens, but on a night like this, they couldn’t trust anything that came from the sky. “Was it a normal meteor? Why can’t I tell?”

“...debris from above?” Judo asked. Then, “...one of your satellites?”

Suwon looked down. “But they had a carrier. Why destroy…?” he whispered.

“Your Majesty,” Judo began, fearling the answer to his question. “Will I need to cancel your meetings tomorrow, too?” _And the next day, and the next?_ At times, Suwon seemed like himself, but at others, he seemed totally lost. If he couldn’t do his duty as king, where did they go from here? Where did Kouka go?

“Yes,” said Suwon, and Judo’s heart sank. “Ah, not because I can’t handle it,” he added. “But if they have two ships...if they’re taking my satellites too...I know where to find power. I just need to figure out how.”


	3. Chapter 3

He didn’t sleep again that night. Or perhaps he did, unknowing—it felt like too little time passed, but this body could not keep accurate time, after all...at any rate, he was awake when dawn broke and a servant brought the morning meal he customarily took alone. 

All through the night, Won—easier to think of himself as Won than Suwon while he wasn’t fully himself—had searched for a solution to his problem, and still it eluded him. His mind kept turning to other worries. Normally, of course, he could think through whatever caught his fancy, but a human brain could only do so much. He didn’t have time to wonder when or if he could have opened up to Minsu, to wonder if Judo was resting as ordered. Those weren’t priorities...were they? He certainly didn’t have time to worry about the headache that had never quite faded away, or what it might mean. It shouldn’t be like this. With such a limited, human brain, shouldn’t  _ not _ thinking about things be easier?

He needed his power core. That was his priority. It was out there, and he had hostages...it should be so  simple!

“Your Majesty?” Minsu’s voice and a tap at the door greeted him. “You have a...very strange visitor. I should probably turn someone like this away, but…” He paused. Won opened the door so that he could come inside and speak in private. “He says he came on behalf of Princess Yona.”

Princess Yona, who had been in orbit in a ship of her own. It wouldn’t be impossible to land without computer guidance, and if she had, that meant there was a ship within reach. “Show him in,” Won commanded.

“Yes, sir. You’ll be ready by then?”  _ Ready? _ Belatedly, he realized he hadn’t changed out of his sleeping clothes. “Though he was nearly naked when he arrived, so it hardly matters in this case,” Minsu muttered as he bowed and left the room.

Image did matter, though. Won knew that. Even if he wasn’t truly Suwon, even if his visitor had arrived at the palace...wait,  _ naked? _ That made no sense. He spent so long trying to puzzle that out that when Minsu returned, he still wore only one layer of his robes. His guest, Yona’s yellow-haired companion, wore a tunic identical to Minsu’s, and might look less out of place than Won did at the moment.

“Ah, it’s been a few decades since Zeno’s worn this uniform! Thanks, lad! Now the boy won’t scold Zeno!” With that, Minsu departed once again.

“Ouryuu,” Won greeted the dragon with a nod.

“Hi, Mister Compu—” Ouryuu stopped. Stared. “Ah, you’re not! I suppose Zeno has to call you big brother king then!”

There was something about Ouryuu he knew, something important. What was it? “Ah, and Mister Computer was supposed to have a long life, too. It’s too bad!”

“I’m not dead,” Won said sharply. “Ouryuu, why are you here?”

“Oh! It seemed important. Zeno wanted to find out what was going on. See, Seiryuu noticed a big ship that was trying to hide. It was taking Mister Computer’s eyes and Seiryuu didn’t like that.” He looked into Won’s eyes. “Neither did the miss. So, it’s a good thing Ryokuryuu had practice being a pirate!”

“You...stopped them?”

“Well, mostly. But our ship got damaged so we had to take theirs and then one of them escaped in their little ship, and it turns out the big one can’t land, and even though most of the metal boxes are still there, we couldn’t talk to anyone. So Zeno decided the best way to find out what was going on was to come down here and ask.”

“...without a landing craft.”

“Ah, Zeno jumped!” He laughed. “Zeno thought it would just be like falling a really long way…”

“Instead, you became a shooting star.” Ah, yes, that was what he’d forgotten about Ouryuu. Useful. “Did it hurt?” he heard himself asking. A pointless question. He didn’t have time for pointless questions. 

“Zeno’s fine now! Although, Zeno’s really hungry! Big brother king won’t mind—?” He reached for a bun from Won’s untouched breakfast plate.

“Communications are down,” Won said. “How are you going to report back?”

“Oh, if Zeno writes a letter really big and goes up to the roof of the castle, then Seiryuu can read it!”

“That’s…”

“Well, Seiryuu can copy it for the lad to read. Seiryuu’s still learning!” No, that wasn’t the piece that shouldn’t be possible. Though no more impossible than for Ouryuu to survive falling to earth from orbit without even a suit. “Seeing you gives Zeno most of the answers he needs already,” said Ouryuu. “Ah, Zeno’s glad Mister Computer will be okay! But,” he added, “I’m glad I was able to speak to you, too.”

Won was glad, too. More than glad. Ouryuu’s story, disjointed as it was, had given him hope again. His satellites weren’t gone. His enemies had been subdued. He should probably thank Yona...ah, no, she wouldn’t want to hear that. He remembered that now, too. “The landing craft,” Won said. The final piece he needed to formulate a plan. “When it got away—did it land?”

“Yep,” said Zeno. “If you find it, give Zeno a ride back, ok?”

Won nodded. He could do it now, he was sure of it. He finally reached for the cup of tea that sat waiting for him, long since cold, and then pressed his fingers against his skull, trying to ignore the still-aching pain. He  _ would _ be himself again. He would.

* * *

Judo did, finally, sleep. He woke at dawn and went to the training grounds, as was his custom. But the king had been right—one side of his body was stiff and sore, protesting with every step he took. Luckily, he wasn't here to practice his usual sword katas.

He usually avoided training with his own blast rays. Even after seeing them in action—feeling them in action, now—they just didn’t feel like weapons in his hands. But now, with who knew what future waiting for them, he had to be ready.

And...they didn’t work. “Damn!” he shouted, drawing a few startled glances from the few soldiers training this early. It really did get everything, didn’t it? The attackers last night, they’d had nearly identical weapons. The prison guards must have put them somewhere—but now the flow of his training was ruined. He fell back into his sword katas with a scowl on his face, and after one stumble too many, finally had to admit that he was getting absolutely nothing out of this.

As he stomped back to his office, he met the king coming from the opposite direction. “General Judo, there you are.” Suwon looked every inch his normal, confident self—the only thing out of place in the picture before him was the black-feathered Keishuk at the king’s side. Judo couldn’t tell if the fact that the aven still wore his normal clothing made him look more or less alien—he’d cut off the sleeves of his robes, but the long winglike feathers on his arms had nearly the same effect, and everything else, up to his now-functionless hairpiece, remained the same.“Come with me. We have work to do.”

Thank god. “You have a plan.”

Suwon nodded. “Our prisoner can give us everything we need.” Judo’s heart began to sink. After last night, he wasn’t so sure about that. “Just follow my lead.” He handed Judo a translator as they approached the prison cells, and Judo noted that he did not don one himself. That was a good sign, right? Whatever knowledge he’d lost, it wasn’t everything. Maybe this could work. Computer or not, Suwon seemed like himself again, and Judo trusted that whatever he had in mind, he could pull it off. 

The lead aven—Judo still hadn’t learned their name, and didn’t intend to—was a mess. Their feathers were dirty and bent out of shape, and bloody bandages covered more than just their wrist. Suwon shot a glance at Judo, who shook his head. He hadn’t left them like this—but the palace guards did not look kindly on would-be assassins, let alone those who were monsters. 

“You!” the aven growled as Judo, Suwon, and Keishuk stepped into the dim candlelight. “This is barbaric! When the Company hears how we’ve been treated—”

“Yes,” said Suwon before Judo could speak. “I should have done more to ensure you received proper care. I was not myself last night,” he added. “As you are well aware.”

“If this is an apology, then why is  _ that _ here?”

“I did not come here to apologize. I came here because you’re still useful to me. And General Judo is here because you know exactly what he is capable of doing to you if necessary.”

“What makes you think—”

“You want to leave here, don’t you?” Judo frowned. Just what was Suwon planning? “I want to send a message to the Company. But you’ve taken my satellites, and my agents’ ships—” all two of them, but the aven didn’t need to know that— “are out of reach. I will allow to return to your landing craft, go back to your people and seek medical treatment, if you deliver a message for me.”

“Computer!” Keishuk protested. It seemed that he didn’t like the sound of this any more than Judo did. “After what they tried, you can’t possibly expect them to help you! You’re not operating at full capacity—” As Keishuk spoke, the aven prisoner seemed to grow more confident—and that was when Judo knew that Suwon’s plan, whatever it was, was going to succeed.

“I’m keeping your guards here as hostages,” Suwon continued, ignoring Keishuk’s objections. “You must have planned on a location to meet your landing craft. Summon it, and I will escort you there.”

“...why not confiscate my ship and send one of your own people?” the prisoner asked.

“What people?” Suwon asked. “This isn’t something a human can do, no matter how much knowledge I’ve given them. And I need Keishuk here. Warn your friends, of course, if you’re worried about that.” A ridiculous concern, his tone said, and the aven seemed to agree.

“I’ll do it,” the prisoner said. Quick to agree—they thought they were getting the best of the situation, and Judo still couldn’t see how they weren’t. But whatever Suwon’s plan was, the aven was playing right into it. “My hand,” the prisoner demanded. “You kept my hand, didn’t you? On ice?” Judo gaped at them. They’d really been serious about aven doctors sewing it back on!

“...oh,” said Suwon. “I wasn’t thinking clearly yesterday. You understand.”

Even after this, the aven tried to push their luck, asking Suwon to simply let them go rather than escort them to the landing site. But when Judo reminded them that it was for their own protection—that any off-duty soldier who saw a monster wandering free might not hesitate to take their head—they shuddered and didn’t ask again. Keishuk shuddered, too. Suwon allowed the aven to send a brief message via one of the confiscated communicators—no conversation, of course—and then, reluctantly, the aven agreed to lead Suwon to the landing site. 

A military cart carried them high into the mountains above the castle, but they had to abandon the cart and travel the last hour on foot. Judo rethought his earlier caution—no one, soldier or otherwise, would have stumbled across them by accident out here. The forest shade scattered the day’s bright sunlight, and Judo almost mistook the shimmering metal hull of the ship for a mountain stream. The only other space-ship he’d seen was the one belonging to Lady Lili’s companions, and this was much smaller.

As the ship came into view, the gleam in their prisoner’s eye was impossible to miss. Judo almost pitied the other aven guards, who they undoubtedly planned to abandon—almost. Then the door of the ship slid open. The monster standing inside was not aven—it was some sort of furred beast, with ears like a cat. Was there no end to them? “Arouk!” cried the monster. “Thank the balance you came. The natives, they had some weapon—they took the carrier—I’m the only one who…” She trailed off, ears twitching in confusion, as she registered the others who had met the ship. “Arouk. What—?”

The aven spun around to face Suwon, feathers flaring in outrage. “You—you knew! You tricked me!”

The cat-creature drew a weapon and fired, but Judo dodged it in time. He didn’t know what sort of force the aven—Arouk—had expected to find waiting for him, but one creature was easy to subdue. He took her weapon and bound her wrists. “We’ll take the shuttle back to the palace,” said Suwon. “Keishuk, can you pilot?” With a nod, Keishuk stepped inside, then Suwon and Judo led their two prisoners before them. 

Outside, the ship had seemed to be made of solid metal. From inside, nearly half of it was transparent. Judo had known of ships like this for half a year. He’d never been inside one, let alone flown...but he could marvel at the novelty sometime when he didn’t have prisoners to guard. “So you were toying with me?” Arouk asked. “What you said before is still true, you know. There’s no one you can spare to use the ship.”

“This shuttle is what carries your pulse weapon, is it not?” Arouk stubbornly didn’t budge, but the other prisoner nodded. “Once I learned you used it for multiple attacks, on the satellites too, well—its power source is exactly what I need.”

“But—your message—”

“Oh, I think my message will be quite clear,” said Suwon. “Don’t you?” He looked from Judo to Keishuk, then stared out the wide window at the earth below. “I’m sorry for including you in the deception. Every time I tried to put it into words, the plan fell apart in my head. This human mind is still…”

“This—” the new prisoner began with a start. “This is the AI?”

“He’s not the AI!” Arouk spoke to the new prisoner, but looked directly at Suwon. “He’s an infuriating human who  _ thinks _ he’s the AI. I don’t know why you’re doing this,” he continued. “Powering up the computer won’t make you part of it again. Your nanobots are dead. You have to know that. You should be happy you’re free.”

“Enough.” One word from Suwon was all it took to silence them. Judo stared at Suwon.  _ Free? _ He wouldn’t question his king in front of their prisoners—but there were suddenly so many things he needed to ask.

* * *

“Your Majesty—”

“We shouldn’t keep them in the dungeons indefinitely,” said Suwon as he, Keishuk, and Judo left their two prisoners with the palace guard. Onlookers—courtiers and soldiers alike—crowded the courtyard, staring at the ship in awe. Even after Lili and several other aven tourists had spoken publicly, the rumors of the monsters’ near-magical technology had been met with doubt. Well, here was their proof. “Every offworlder is an important prisoner. Perhaps an estate near the city…”

“Your Majesty—”

“Ah, yes, Keishuk, I trust you to handle the reboot. Some of these soldiers can help you dismount and move the power source.” They’d already left the courtyard behind, but he gestured as if the soldiers were still right behind him. “Oh. I don’t...I’ve forgotten the name of the craftsman who can help you with my circuitry. I…”

“Minsu can look that up, computer,” said Keishuk. “While I admit that level of detailed soldering and wirework is beyond me—just what were you planning to tell the man? The work has to be done in your chamber.”

“Ah…” Suwon paused, then brightened. “Minsu knows enough to explain what’s needed.”

“No, he does not,” Keishuk countered. “He doesn’t know—”

“He is not to know that it’s me!” said Suwon sharply. “But he knows enough to explain  _ you _ . Tell him...tell him whatever seems fitting.” Keishuk sighed. “If you go into the city, I suggest you wear a cloak,” he added, unhelpfully.

Keishuk looked as if he wanted to speak again, but he only sighed, turned, and left. Whispers followed him. Rumor must have spread through the palace—it seemed everyone knew who he was, even if they watched him with suspicion. 

“Now, Your Majesty—”

“Until Keishuk is ready, I have several mundane tasks to take care of. I’m going to my room now; you need not follow.”

Dammit, the king was definitely avoiding the subject on purpose. “Your Majesty, are you going to address what just happened, or not?”

“We got the power source we needed. I don’t know what else there is to discuss.”

“Dammit, Your Majesty, are you going to be yourself again or aren’t you?”

They were near the king’s chamber, now. Alone. Suwon slumped to the floor. “I don’t know,” he said. “My nanobots are fragile. If the pulse hit them...but we weren’t in the castle. We were in Kuuto. It isn’t certain—” He lifted a hand to massage his temple as he spoke, and  Judo remembered the screaming pain in Suwon’s head.  _ Uncertain, is it? _ “But I’ll be functional again soon. I’ll be myself. Whether or not I can reconnect to this body, I’ll still need it to act as king, so…”

_ But you are this body. _ The computer was still offline. Everything the king had done over the past day had  _ been _ just this body. Of course he was— “What did that aven mean by “free?” Judo asked sharply.

“Find out what equipment Keishuk needed from the university,” said Suwon, ignoring the question. “You can ride out to get it.”

“Your Majesty—”

Suwon stood up, straightened his robes, and looked Judo in the eye. “Go,” he repeated.

And because Judo knew that the man before him was still his king, he left.


	4. Chapter 4

Judo caught up with Keishuk and Minsu just as they were leaving the palace. “Oh good, you’re coming too?” Minsu asked. “I’m sure Master San-dol will be more likely to listen to you, General.”

That must be the jeweler. Frankly, Judo didn’t know what Minsu was talking about. The boy carried out important palace business on his own all the time—in fact, he might have more luck if Keishuk stayed behind. “No, I just needed to find out which of Lady Yonhi’s tools you need.”

“Just her computer console,” said Keishuk. “And I won’t need that until later.” He, too, gestured for Judo to come along, and sighing, Judo followed. Minsu was right—the presence of the sky general did a lot to convince, or perhaps merely intimidate, the jeweler, who, faced with a strange monster and an unassuming boy, would have preferred to retreat to the back of his workshop.

“Minsu knows where all of Lady Yonhi’s equipment is,” Keishuk said after they returned with the jeweler to the palace. “He can go get it.”

“No, the king sent me—” But hadn’t Suwon just wanted him out of his sight?

“Well, go with him if you want,” said Keishuk with a shrug. “Oh, and bring Lady Yonhi’s doctor back with you, too. I’m sure Suwon would have asked you to, if he’d remembered.” He spoke as if the king’s forgetfulness was a matter of course.

“Her doctor?”

“They’re aven,” Keishuk explained. “They can see to the prisoners.” Minsu nodded to confirm—and that must be how he’d already known so much. Wasn’t that doctor supposed to be his mother? But the boy didn’t offer any further explanation, and Judo didn’t ask for it.

By the time they returned from the royal university, it was past midday. Back in the mainframe’s chamber, they found Keishuk waiting alone. “Already finished?”

“No. The jeweler needed a break to rest his eyes, and I need to take some readings before we go on, anyway. You brought—?” Judo handed him a wooden chest, and as Keishuk opened it, he gave what Judo took for a genuine laugh. “Everything I need, and then some.” Judo had filled the chest with anything that looked vaguely alien, just in case. “I’ll get started before he comes back. I swear, if he asks to touch my feathers one more time…”

“Well, Master San-dol is an artist,” Minsu reasoned. “He appreciates unusual appearances.” Keishuk only ruffled his feathers in further annoyance.

“How long will the rest of this take?” Judo asked.

“Oh...hours, I’m sure.”

Hours, with nothing left to distract him. The jeweler returned, and set to work once again, and it wasn't until he irritably asked Judo to stop pacing that he realized he was doing it. Trying to parse out the difference between this king and that king when one wouldn’t speak to him and the other could not wasn’t doing anyone any good.

When he stepped out of the chamber, he wasn’t expecting to find anyone else—the guards had been dismissed before Keishuk began working. The boy he ran into was dressed like Minsu, but Judo knew all the officials in the palace by sight, and this yellow-haired boy wasn’t one of them. “You—” he began. 

“Oh, hi, mister,” the youth greeted him.

“Aren’t you one of Princess Yona’s companions?” Judo demanded. “What are you doing here?” He paused. “Is  _ she _ here?” The princess and the king seemed to be reluctant allies these days, but with Suwon...not himself...and the whole palace on edge after learning Keishuk’s secret, the last thing they needed was for Il’s daughter to show up.

“Nope, it’s just Zeno, and Zeno will be leaving soon,” said Zeno. “Did big brother king find the little ship?”

“...yes…” How did he—? No, wait. Suwon had known the ship wouldn’t be defended. This boy had been with the princess, who was supposed to be in a ship of her own.  _ He’d _ brought that information to the king.

“Good, good!” said Zeno. “Then mister computer and big brother king will be okay! Zeno will be leaving soon,” he repeated. “But Zeno doesn’t get to come to the palace very often, so Zeno decided to pay an old friend a visit.”

“Look, I can’t just let you walk around unsupervised—”

“You can come too, mister!”

Well, it wasn’t as if Judo had anything better to do.

He followed Zeno until they came to a familiar space, one he hadn’t set foot in in years. “This is King Hiryuu’s mausoleum.”

“Zeno sometimes wonders what he would have thought about all these other worlds,” said Zeno. “Ah, maybe he already knew. The miss is excited to see them, and that’s good enough for Zeno!” He offered the great stone coffin—not a look of reverence, but a friendly smile. “You know, mister,” he said, glancing up at Judo. “Most people think Hiryuu chose to become human. Well, he did, but not at first! Take good care of big brother king for me, okay, mister?”

Judo definitely wasn’t here for philosophical discussions. “Look, kid—”

“See you, mister!” Then Zeno darted to the back of the room—and disappeared.

Judo hadn’t known about  _ that _ secret passage. He almost shot after the boy, then stopped himself. There was really no point, and besides, he’d likely brought valuable information to the king. And if he found him again, he’d just start talking more nonsense…

Keishuk and the jeweler finished eventually. By then, afternoon had passed into evening. “Minsu,” said Judo. “Find this man a room for the night, and see that he gets a good meal. He’s done a very important service for the king.”

The look on the boy’s face made Judo wonder, not for the first time, just how much Minsu knew, and how much he might have guessed. Had it really been wise to keep him here the whole time? Minsu had served Il loyally—what would he do if he knew the true nature of the king? Keishuk probably hadn’t even thought about that…

It was still too quiet. “Is His Majesty—?” Judo began, glancing around the room.

“The startup process will take a few hours,” Keishuk said. “I can begin restoring his memory after that. We’ll start at dawn.”

Dawn was far more than a few hours away...but Keishuk needed sleep too, Judo supposed. “The sooner the better,” he said. “The king is—”

“About what Arouk said,” said Keishuk. “...they were almost certainly right.”

Fuck.

“I’ll try to reconnect him,” said Keishuk. “I’ll try. But I don’t expect anything to come of it. Just in case, though—he should stay away from here until the machine is fully restored.”

“...and after that?”

“After that, I suppose it’s up to them,” said Keishuk in a resigned tone. Them. Plural. The man who Judo had left in his chamber, who might never again be more than what he was now, and the computer, who… Keishuk sighed. “I ought to suggest we just stop here. Throw ourselves on the Company’s mercy. The AI isn’t  _ my _ king, after all.”

_ Isn’t he? _ Judo wanted to ask. Keishuk had always claimed to be no more than an observer—distant, academic—but the past two days proved that to be a lie. “And I suppose if I ask why you’ve put so much on the line to fix him, you’ll just say you were in too deep?”

“Well,” Keishuk shrugged. “There’s also that, of course.”

* * *

It was after Keishuk left that Judo realized he’d forgotten to mention the king’s previous nighttime wanderings. If Suwon shouldn’t be near the computer, then someone needed to tell him...and that someone would have to be Judo, now.

Telling himself that the king had had several hours to calm down from that earlier discussion, Judo tapped as gently as he could at the king’s door—then forgot all about trying to be polite as he saw the inside of the room. Books, scrolls, and loose papers were scattered about everywhere. “Just some mundane paperwork?” Judo demanded.

Suwon looked up from his desk. “I should know this,” he said. “I should know all of this.” Judo glanced around at all the papers. Various reports on different industries throughout the kingdom, it was possible that one or two of them might actually be relevant to the business of the day. Possible.

“No one should know all of this,” Judo countered.

The king smiled. “Ha! That’s one perspective,” he agreed, laughter coming too quickly. “No human should,” he added. “General...you never questioned how I came to possess a human body.”

_ My body is here, my mind is elsewhere. _ That was all Judo had needed to know. The Company could do so many things—if he’d ever thought about it at all, he’d have figured they sent him here with one. He knew, after all, that the computer had been here since Suwon was a child. But...that didn’t hold up, did it? Not with what the aven had said. Not with what was happening now. “Possess,” he repeated. That word choice had been deliberate.

“This body was once another person,” said Suwon. “Until my nanobots allowed me to make it an extension of myself. Now—well, that is what Arouk meant by ‘free.’ But he’s mistaken,” Suwon continued. “That child doesn’t exist anymore. This body... _ I _ ...have known myself as Kouka’s AI for nearly ten years now, and it seems I will continue to do so.”

“Good,” said Judo.

Suwon looked up sharply. “Good?”

“If you’re going to be two people, we sure as hell don’t need you being two  _ different _ people. Your Majesty,” Judo continued, “ten years was a long time ago. You’re the king I chose to follow.” Or at least, part of him.

Still, he had to wonder. That boy he used to chase through the city more than a decade ago—truly gone? It was somehow more impossible than believing that kid had been the AI all along.  _ Most people think Hiryuu chose to become human. _ Judo stopped short, remembering Zeno’s words. How much did that boy know? “Keishuk says you’re not to go near your mainframe until everything’s ready,” he said. “That’s what I came here to report. And the power core was successfully installed, and he’ll begin restoring your memories in the morning.”

“You should be there for that.”

“Your Majesty—” What Judo could possibly add to that procedure, he had no idea.

“I would very much appreciate it, general,” said Suwon, and Judo nodded in resignation. 

He gave the king’s chambers one final look before leaving for the night. “Minsu can help you with your paperwork. That  _ is _ his job, you know. Please get some sleep tonight, Your Majesty.”

Suwon smiled at him. “Judo, you always manage to surprise me. Goodnight, General.”

* * *

Judo went to the computer’s chamber before dawn, and found Keishuk already there. “I don’t think I’ll need your help for this, General,” said Keishuk.

“You’ll need  _ someone’s _ help,” Judo countered, because Suwon must have had a reason for wanting him here. “No one else knows the truth, so it has to be me. I wish Lady Yonhi were here,” he grumbled. “She actually understands this stuff.”

“And you think she’d help?” Keishuk asked pointedly. 

_ Of course she would. She’s the king’s mother— _

Oh.

“If you’re going to be here, then I should warn you—the computer won’t seem like itself at first. Please don’t be alarmed. You already know it isn’t human. Did you bring your translator?” Startled, Judo nodded. “Wear it. Without its memories, the computer does not speak Koukan.” And with that, Keishuk stepped forward to the open paneling, and pressed a sequence of buttons inside.

The tone of humming in the background shifted.

“Computer,” said Keishuk in a tone of voice that could only be described as a command. “Authorization code—” The words he spoke next were apparently untranslatable. “Authorizing vocal instructions due to equipment malfunction.”

“Acknowledged,” said a voice that was not Suwon’s. “Awaiting further instructions.”

_ Awaiting further…? _ No, no, he wasn’t himself yet. The computer’s stiff, compliant tone, obeying the words of the first person to recite a string of random words and numbers, meant nothing.

“Tell me the results of your startup performance check,” said Keishuk. “Any damage?”

“All systems functioning normally,” said the computer. “But this power core was not designed for this machine. Estimated power supply remaining: two and a half months.”

“...understood,” said Keishuk. “Computer, your memory crystals were removed. I’m going to reinstall them one by one. Scan for data corruption, but don’t reintegrate until I’ve restored each piece.” A pause. Too long a pause, for a machine like this. “Computer, I need you to give me access—”

“Anything could be on those crystals,” said the computer, and Keishuk frowned.

“They’re your own memory crystals,” he said.

“It’s a suspicious situation,” the computer insisted. “Why am I being restarted in a place without proper equipment? Your authorization codes say you’re not a Company employee, and the other person with you hasn’t given any authorization at all.”

“I have—other authorization codes—”

“No, I don’t want them,” said the computer, sounding like nothing more than a petulant child—and a familiar one at that. Judo couldn’t hold back a chortle of laughter.

Keishuk shot him a look. “This isn’t funny,” he said. “This could be a major setback—”

“And the person you brought with you is human,” said the computer. “That’s also suspicious.”

“Your Majesty,” Judo said. “None of this would be suspicious if you remembered what was going on!”

“A human with a translator. You called me “Your Majesty,” it said. “Do I wear the form of your king?”

“You don’t ‘wear his form,’ you  _ are _ the king!” Judo scowled. “I never thought  _ I’d _ be the one explaining this to  _ you _ .”

“And who explained it to you? This Keishuk?”

“You did. Keishuk was against it.”

“You don’t need to bring that up now, General,” Keishuk muttered.

“I told a human...that’s fascinating.”

“It would make sense if you’d just let Keishuk fix you!”

“Yes,” the computer agreed. “Mr. Keishuk, I’ll accept your authorization codes.”

“ _ Thank _ you.”

“You can insert the first memory crystal now.” As Keishuk slid the first etched bar into place, Judo almost had to smile. Not himself? Hardly.

* * *

The frantic whirring of fans abruptly ceased, and the sudden silence jolted Judo back to alertness. No—not silence. The cold stone chamber was finally filled with all the familiar white noise that belonged there. 

“General? Judo, I can’t see you.” Nearly the same words he’d spoken to days ago, waking up after that fit. “I can’t reach my peripherals. General Judo—I’ve been attacked!” He sounded almost the same, too—his voice was his own again.

“Two days ago, Your Majesty,” said Judo. “The attackers are no longer a threat.”

“Some of your equipment was damaged,” Keishuk added. “Most of it just isn’t back online yet.”

“...yes. Rebooting is somewhat disorienting. Keishuk, I should apologize for not trusting you just now.”

“Honestly, I should have expected it,” muttered Keishuk. “Computer, you can reconnect to your satellites whenever you’re ready. It seems some of them were damaged, but we don’t know how many. At any rate, you should still have a functional network.”

“Was anyone hurt during the attack? Judo, Keishuk, you’re both fine?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Judo assured the king. His own injury wasn’t serious enough to mention. “Gyoku was stunned, and he’s still confined to bedrest. Aside from that, there were no casualties,” Judo reported. 

“And...my body?” Judo and Keishuk looked at each other. “The last thing I remember is pain. Judo...is my body dead?”

“If you were dead then why the hell do you think I’d say no casualties?” Judo snapped.

“The pain you felt...was most likely your nanobots overheating from the pulse, computer.”

“...oh.”

“There’s a chance—”

“Do I know? Does my body know?”

Grimly, Judo nodded. Then he remembered that Suwon still didn’t have working cameras. “You know.”

“I had him stay away during the reboot just in case...and in case there was any data corruption. But now…” Keishuk looked down. “I have some technical things I need to go over with the computer.”

One of them had to go to the king. Judo had expected all along that the duty would fall on him. “I’ll tell him you’re ready, Your Majesty,” he said. “I’ll go to...you...now.”

Suwon wasn’t in his chamber. It was late morning by now, nearing midday, so this wasn’t too surprising, but Judo wished he’d thought to tell him what his plans were. “You,” he snapped at a servant standing by. “Do you know where the king went?”

“He was dressed to go outside…”

No, he wouldn’t go to Kuuto alone, would he? Well yes, all the time, but he knew what they were doing to the computer today. He’d stay close, wouldn’t he? Judo decided to check the training grounds next. No luck. His next guess was more successful. He found the king in the stables by the mews—sound asleep, curled up on a pile of straw, Gulfan perched protectively above him. “Hmph. I suppose I should be grateful you slept at all?”

Suwon blinked awake, then sat up, brushing straw from his cloak. “...it’s day. I...oh. I didn’t tell myself to wake up.”

“Is there a particular reason you’re napping  _ here, _ Your Majesty?” Judo asked, reaching forward to pluck a piece of straw from Suwon’s hair. 

“I dreamt that Gulfan flew so high into the sky I lost sight of her, and she never came back down.”

“Well, that’s—” Judo didn’t know what to say to that. He’d asked, hadn’t he? What kind of explanation had he really expected? “You’re awake,” he said instead.

“Yes, and Gulfan is here—ah. I’m awake. Then there’s no point in waiting, is there?” He stood up, then reached out a hand to pet Gulfan’s feathers and released the leash from her leg before moving toward the entrance. “Watch the skies for me for just a little longer,” Suwon whispered. “I’ll be back soon.”

What was this feeling of dread that followed Judo as he walked by Suwon’s side to the computer’s chamber? He knew there was only a slim hope—but why didn’t it feel like hope at all? If everything went as it should, then the man who walked beside him would once again become part of the computer. But they were already the same person—seeing them exist separately over these past two days had only served to make that clear. What Arouk had said—what Suwon had confirmed—that was irrelevant now. Judo could accept the fact that his king existed in a stolen body, just as he’d accepted every other sacrifice that Suwon had made to achieve his goals. That he existed now as a separate person—

Well, he didn’t. They were the same.

But this Suwon, this purely human Suwon, he was—vulnerable. Vulnerable in a way that Judo had never seen, in a way that was, at times, frankly ridiculous. Kouka did not need a vulnerable king. And yet—

Suwon wouldn’t dream again.

Judo stopped short.

“General?” Suwon asked as Judo fell behind. “Is something wrong?” His mask of hopeful confidence might have fooled anyone else. And the thing that now felt so inexplicably wrong to Judo was the one thing holding him together.

Judo swallowed back that sense of dread. “No,” he said. “There’s nothing wrong.”

When they arrived, Keishuk had opened up what Judo knew to be the display panel, and was poking at the exposed wires inside. Intermittent lights flashed, bright in the candlelit darkness. No matter how many candles lit this place, it was always dark—it was a wonder the jeweler had been able to do his work at all. “General Judo,” said the computer. “You brought—?” A question. He still couldn’t see.

“Ah—” Suwon’s eyes widened and he breathed in sharply—then suddenly bent over, clutching his head and wrenching his face in pain.

“Your Majesty!” Judo knelt beside Suwon, hand on his shoulder. The pained expression left Suwon’s face as quickly as it arrived and he took deep breaths, but just when Judo thought things were alright again the king started shaking. Judo spun around to face the computer. “Was that—did you—? Why the hell didn’t you say something before you tried this? You could have asked him—”

Him. Another person.

“No,” whispered Suwon. “No, no, no no no…”

“I’m sorry,” said...Suwon, in the exact same voice, and he sounded truly regretful. “I’m sorry. There’s nothing left that I can use.”


	5. Chapter 5

Only three of my satellites are gone. I can see the entire world. And yet here, right in my heart, I’m blind.

I can still hear, though, and I can still reach out for data connections. My body is silent, but I feel the presence of my nanobots—an entirely useless presence, not dead but damaged far beyond repair, and enmeshed so permanently as to be impossible to replace. I couldn’t see what happened when I tried to connect, but I remember the pain I felt before. It must have been like that—only this time, it isn’t me.

My body...isn’t me.

“General Judo, am I alright?” He doesn’t answer. He’s too busy trying to get my body to respond. I can hear my heartbeat—I know I’m not dead. But that’s all I know.

“Say something, Your Majesty! Are you still in pain?”

“No, I—” He’s not talking to me, of course. 

Beside my open display panel, right beside my microphone, Keishuk murmurs a low “I’m sorry. We tried.”

I begin to process what this will mean for our future. The galactic congress was never going to accept me as Kouka’s sovereign, I have always known that. But we haven’t even begun to reach out. This is too soon—no one else can lead Kouka to the future it deserves, not yet.

“You said ‘this body’ would act as king,” Judo demands. I can tell it bothers him, referring in the third person to the one he’s speaking to. “Well, can it?” he demands. “Or are you just going to let it freeze up like this?”

I hear myself take a deep breath. “I…”

“I still can use this body,” I say.

“Yes,” my body says, confidence coming back into my voice. “I’m here, after all. My body can...do what needs to be done.”

“You’re unhurt?”

“I’m not hurt,” my body confirms. “That was a confirmation of what we feared, but it’s over now.” I hear a soft rustle of fabric as he stands up. “General,” he says. “I would like to be alone with myself for a time. Please leave us.”

“I don’t like this,” Judo grumbles. “What if something else happens?”

“If I call out to the guards, they’ll still hear the king’s voice,” I remind him.

“...fine, then.”

I still hear wires sliding into place as Keishuk continues to work. “One moment, computer,” he says. Then, with a final click, my cameras are back. I can see.

My body stands alone, expressionless, staring at my mainframe. In the dim lighting of my chamber, I can see better than any human—I remember this. Perhaps Judo couldn’t see the wetness in my eyes, or maybe he chose to ignore it. To be fair, I can’t imagine Judo offering my body the comfort it needs right now. I don’t know that I can offer the comfort I need. A touch…

I’ll never feel a human touch again.

Keishuk steps back. I could already sense that he wasn’t wearing his holomask, but it only occurs to me now, seeing him, that the entire palace must know he’s aven. I wonder how my body chose to explain that, or if I have at all. “Thank you, Keishuk,” I say. With a nod, he turns to Judo, and together they leave me alone. 

There’s a table in here, and a cushion to sit at, but my body remains standing, as I expected. “Your Majesty,” I say.

Eyes wide, I flinch.  _ He _ flinches.

“...Won, then?” Yes, that’s how I would call myself.

“My satellites?” he asks. In answer, I turn on my newly-restored display screen, and pull up the real-time image of Kouka from above. My body stares at that image for a long time.

“Our...ah, Yona’s...ship seems to be damaged, and I see a pair of new ones.” The attackers’. I quickly review their data of the attack and what followed—fascinating—and begin the process of making them mine.

(“Oh? What’s this?” Yona's companion Jaeha hovers on the bridge of the carrier.

“Just me. I have full access to this ship now, too. Ah…” I’m not yet fully integrated into the carrier's systems. I repeat myself in Koukan; I'll upload my own voice-print later. “I'll leave you alone as before, but Yona will want to know I'm here.”

“Yes…” I think he may want to ask more questions. Well, I am here now if he does.)

“With my satellites, I can see everything,” says my body, who can’t.

“But without you, I cannot act.”

“I...can’t act,” my body confesses. “I’m paralyzed by indecision, by not knowing…” What he says doesn’t hold true. Keishuk has told me some of how he returned my power core. But I have inhabited that body. I can easily imagine what it would feel like to think with only a human mind. How terrified, how helpless I would feel.

“You’ll come to think and act as humans do. My body has always been clever.”

“I don’t want to!” He calms himself in an instant. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. I want to be whole again.”

As do I. “We can’t,” I say. “But we can work together. You will be my king, and I your advisor, and we will lead Kouka as we always have. Because we aren’t finished yet.”

* * *

So what the hell was Judo supposed to feel now?

“The computer is functioning nearly perfectly,” Keishuk offered as they stepped out of earshot of the guards. “I’m sure that with its guidance, the human will be able to perform—”

“Have you been blind these past two days? Of course the king can do his duty.” Because getting overwhelmed by simple paperwork and sleeping in the stable with his bird, that was the king he knew. Right. But when his life and Kouka’s future were on the line, he had been. “If you’re going to say I’m a primitive human and I should keep my mouth shut—just don’t. I know the king.” He paused. The thing was, Keishuk  _ did _ know how all this worked, better than Judo could ever hope to understand. “I’ve known him since he was a child.”

“Ah? —ah.” Keishuk shot him a sidelong glance. “You can’t fault yourself for not noticing the difference back then—”

“There was no difference,” Judo said shortly. And dammit, that wasn’t the point. “That boy could have become the king. The same body, the same mind—it’s only his spirit’ that’s the computer’s now.” And what the hell was a spirit, anyway?

“That is...certainly an archaic way of seeing things,” said Keishuk.

Judo scowled. “I said don’t say it.”

“...it’s not as if modern science has any more insight to offer. After all, on civilized planets, it’s illegal to use living bodies as computer hardware.”

“Illegal?” Judo asked sharply.

“Of course it happens,” said Keishuk. “Invariably with...lesser AIs, used for unsavory purposes. People don’t recover from that.”

“Then, His Majesty—”

Keishuk shook his head. “There’s really no precedent for this. There’s no precedent for any of it.”

“He’ll surprise you,” said Judo.

“Yes,” Keishuk allowed. “There’s certainly precedent for that.” They came to an open courtyard, and Keishuk paused. “When I first came to this planet, I hoped I’d be able to do all my work with the mainframe. The idea of working in the company of a—” He used an aven word that Judo didn’t know. “You have stories of dead bodies controlled like puppets?” he asked, seeing Judo’s confusion. “That’s what I expected. That’s what I thought an AI’s host would be. Of course,” he went on, “he met me as ‘Won’ and had me thinking of him as a friend before I knew who or what he was.” Judo nodded in satisfaction. Exactly what he’d have expected out of the situation. “I was sent here to study the AI, but from the beginning, I’ve barely been able to keep up. Maybe you’re right. Maybe he’ll surprise us both.”

Nothing more needed to be said. Judo turned to depart, but stopped at the sound of frantic footsteps behind him. “Lord Keishuk! Oh good, General, you’re here too.”

He turned back to see Minsu approaching, panting and out of breath. “Keishuk, the senior palace officials are looking for you—I wanted to warn you—” Before he could say any more, a contingent of officials, led by the man who was Keishuk’s junior, stepped into the courtyard.

“Ah, Keishuk.” He pointedly avoided any honorifics or titles. Lord Ranum was an older man, who had served directly under King Il’s chief of staff, and had never hidden the fact that he was aiming for the position himself one day. Judo had never noticed any resentment from him towards Keishuk before, but—that was before.

Keishuk’s crest of feathers stiffened back. “Good afternoon, Lord Ranum.” He spoke in cool, clipped tones, and Lord Ranum almost flinched away from his alien gaze. He kept his composure, however.

“You’ve been difficult to find these past days. Surely you have nothing left to hide?” If only that were true. “Keishuk. In light of...recent revelations...we—all the palace officials—have seen fit to ask that you resign.”

“Oh? All of you?” Keishuk looked pointedly at Minsu.

“...with minimal dissent. Nevertheless—”

“I will resign when my king asks me to resign, and not before.”

“And therein lies the problem,” said Ranum. “How can anyone possibly believe that His Majesty Suwon is  _ your _ king?” Judo bit back a retort—Keishuk had admitted as much to him last night, after all. “I wish that I could trust you—you know that I have looked favorably on our aven ambassadors. But with His Majesty still in recovery from this mysterious attack...surely you can see that if you wish us to believe you, you  _ must _ resign.” Keishuk said nothing, and Ranum turned to address Judo. “Has a generals’ meeting been called? What will the leaders of the tribes think when they learn that His Majesty’s closest advisor is a spy from an enemy nation? Perhaps there’s no truth to that rumor, but it has already begun to spread.”

“The generals understand the need to keep secrets in a time of—”

“General Judo.”

He turned. The Suwon who stepped out onto the courtyard was alert, composed, and Judo could have almost believed he was truly himself again after all, but for the sadness in his eyes.

“Your Majesty,” Ranum said. “I see no need to keep this from you: I am calling for Lord Keishuk to resign his post. Not only is he a—not even human, but he has hidden this for months even after the fact of these monsters’ existence was revealed.” He avoided, Judo noticed, accusing the king himself of being complicit in this secrecy, but it was there unspoken all the same.

“When I first brought Keishuk with me to the palace, you resented working with an outsider, but didn’t you become friends? You’ll get used to this too.”

“With respect, Your Majesty, this is not the same. Ally or not, there are duties of a chief of staff that a...foreigner...should not be privy to…”

“I needed Keishuk close to me at all times. As for those duties, I have always done them myself.”

“Your Majesty! That is highly improper—”

The king bowed his head. “Then, yes.”

“...yes?”

“Yes. I am going to need someone to act as an actual chief of staff now, aren’t I?”

Was Judo hearing this correctly? Was Suwon really giving in to this bureaucrat? But he remembered the past couple of days. Scrambling to cancel and postpone meetings on the king’s behalf wasn’t  _ his _ duty either, and it was clear that, title or no, Keishuk could no longer fill that role. “Computer!” Keishuk protested—then corrected himself. “Your Majesty.”

“Come now, Keishuk, those duties were always your least favorite part of being human,” said Suwon. “However,” he said to Lord Ranum. “I still need Keishuk close to me.”

“...I understand,” said the bureaucrat. “Perhaps, treating him as an ambassador?”

“No, that won’t do,” said Suwon. “Keishuk has severed all ties with his own people.”

“I—” Keishuk began, clearly startled by that pronouncement.

“I’ll determine a suitable title later. As for a new chief of staff...ah, Minsu…”

“I’ll draw up a list of candidates as soon as—” He broke off as soon as he realized what the king was really asking. “...and Lord Ranum would be at the top of that list, Your Majesty. You know I’m not…”

“Ah...yes.” A puzzled frown flashed across his face. He wasn’t fully himself, and Judo was certain the others could see it, too. “Ranum, please take over as chief of staff immediately. Keishuk, come with me. General Judo…” He blinked, giving Judo a questioning look.

“I was going to the soldiers’ afternoon training, Your Majesty.” The strange pain in the right half of his body had faded enough for him to finally make himself useful again. But Judo had thought the king would be alone with the mainframe all day. Did he have something else in mind?

It would seem he did not. “Yes. Good. Carry on, please.”

Judo shot Keishuk a sidelong glance, trying to see what he made of all this. He felt like he should do more to defend the aven—but if he hadn’t seen Suwon’s unresponsive state not half an hour ago, would he even question the decision? Keishuk’s aven face offered no answer, and as Suwon turned and began to walk away, Gulfan spiraled down out of the empty sky and lighted on his shoulder.

For heaven’s sake. Was this his king, or wasn’t he?

* * *

Won set the report from the Wind Tribe aside, willing himself to believe that the matter was not urgent and could wait until morning. Inactivity irked him, the pointless nature of dreams irked him, but last night, when he’d carried a handful of reports down to his mainframe late at night to converse with his true self, his mind had simply sent his body back to bed.

That irked him, too.

By morning, of course, he had found an answer to the problem—where and how to care for the aven prisoners without allowing them to spread any secrets—and he had also slept. That was how it had always been. This body did not  _ need _ to be privy to the entire workings of his mind, after all…

Minsu tapped at his door. “Lord Keishuk has something for you,” he said as Won opened the door. “Looks like you’re still awake—shall I send them to you?”

“Yes, thank you. Ah—” he stopped the boy just as he was turning to leave. “Them?”

“They didn’t tell you? Keishuk said, after yesterday, there’s no point in trying to seem human…”

Then...then Minsu and Keishuk had already resolved whatever it was between them. Won hadn't had the time… “They did consider you a friend back then, you know.”

Minsu looked down. “I understand. Their secrets weren’t theirs to tell, were they?” 

And Suwon, of course, had kept far more than Keishuk’s true nature from Minsu. “...that’s right.” He’d had to, of course, and he didn't regret it. So why, if they'd already made amends, did he still feel like he'd lost something?

“Your Majesty—” Minsu was looking into Won’s room, businesslike again. “Is that your dinner? Please remember to eat!”

“Did Judo tell you to remind me?”

“You need to eat,” said Minsu, dodging the question. “You’re still recovering, aren’t you?” Then, with a bow, he turned and departed.

Won unrolled the letter from the Wind Tribe again. No harm looking it over while he waited for Keishuk. And if Keishuk was able to deliver what they’d promised, his body would not be forced to keep things back from himself again.

“It’s ready.”

Won smiled as Keishuk stepped into his chambers, a plain golden circlet held delicately in their talons. No, not quite plain—the band featured the same filigree inlays as his hair cuff. Well, they were crafted by the same jeweler, after all. 

Wires far less elegant than the golden filigree trailed from the back of the circlet, connecting it to a mismatch of disassembled aven technology. “I know it looks like it’s falling apart, but Master San-dol assures me it won’t.”

Gingerly, he took the circlet from Keishuk and placed it on his head. Most of the machinery rested at the nape of his neck, hidden by his hair, and two small pieces clipped behind each ear. Only the circlet would be visible. “Is it working?” Keishuk asked. “This sort of gadgetry isn’t really my thing, you know, but I did what I could.”

_ It’s working perfectly, _ his own voice whispered in his ear.

“It’s working perfectly,” his body relayed to Keishuk.

“Good,” said Keishuk, with a satisfied look.

_ Despite his protests, he really takes pride in his work, _ he noted to himself. They. Someone should remind him that Keishuk preferred “they” now...

“Then I’ll leave you for the night, computer,” Keishuk continued, bowing as they left the room.

_ That’s new, _ Suwon thought to himself.

“Hm?” he murmured.

_ Bowing. There’s no one else to see. _

“Yes, I suppose they have been…” And he had observed this before, without giving it particular note. Yes, it would be better now, his mind with him at all times, to make up for his body’s inadequacies.

He glanced down at the missive from the wind tribe. That was all it would take for the hidden camera in the circlet to record the contents and transmit them to the mainframe. Won himself already had memorized the letter—Fuuga was currently playing host to the latest contingent of offworld tourists. No secret identities or altered memories this time, they had been startled when as soon as their shuttle left what was supposed to be a secret landing site, they were met by a force of natives who both knew what they were and expected their arrival. But they had adapted admirably to learning that they had arrived in the middle of a pre-contact planet’s bid for independence. Hadn’t they all signed on for an adventure? Living openly as alien tourists in a place that still believed in monsters and demons was even more exciting than their original plans—especially after the government of Sei decided to get involved.

Now, their original tour dates were nearing their end, but of course Suwon could not allow another Company ship to land. And forcing them to remain as hostages could destroy all the good will they’d built up—not to mention cause the galactic government to look poorly on Kouka, too.

_ I see, _ was all the acknowledgement he gave. Then,  _ write something. _ Ah, because there would be times—meetings and conversations—when he wouldn’t be able to speak to himself out loud. Best to test now how well the camera would pick up his words as he wrote. Won picked up a brush and a scrap of paper: note to self. Then he froze.  _ Reading it won’t be a problem, _ said his voice in his ear.  _ What’s wrong? _

“I did this before,” Won whispered. “I suddenly remembered—writing notes to myself in case I forgot who I was.” And he had not forgotten, of course, but had looked at them the next morning and found them completely irrelevant. He knew who he was, and he was not the child who had written those words.

_ Mhm _ , he recalled.

Why had that memory come to mind just now? He wasn’t going to forget himself. He wasn’t going to become someone else again. This headset would make certain of that. With it, Won would always be a part of who he truly was.

He pushed paper and ink aside and looked up.  _ Oh, is that a steamed bun? _

“Everyone has been reminding me to eat.” Won picked up the bun and took a bite. Now he would be able to keep track of annoying details like this, too.

_ They’re delicious, _ he recalled wistfully.  _ I’m glad you can still enjoy them for me. _

Somehow, this irked him too. Enjoy? Food and drink had become simply another reminder that he relied entirely upon this physical body. But that wistful note to his voice—he  _ had _ taken pleasure in good food and drink before—and he wouldn’t change! He wouldn’t become someone else. He finished the rest of the bun, admitted to himself that it was, indeed, delicious, and forced the corners of his mouth upwards into a smile—not that this new device could transmit it.

_ And is that Lady Yuno’s tea? _

Won sniffed the cup of now-cool liquid. “No, just green.” He hadn’t paid any attention when it was brought in. 

_ A pity. Though, my body does need to rest. Will you sleep now? _

“I’ll try…” But there were so many things they hadn’t shared yet, so much he still couldn’t see. How could he close his eyes and shut out the world when he was so  _ close _ to being himself again? “Talk to me as I fall asleep. Tell me what I’m thinking.” Perhaps his human mind would rest easier then.

_ That little landing shuttle is my appendage now. I like it. I’ve borrowed ships before, but I’ve never truly been one.  _ There had been no point to it. Physically bound to Kouka, the AI’s reach could only extend so far.  _ I suppose it’s the closest thing I have to a body now. _ Before reconnecting to Won through this headset, he meant. Of course that was what he meant.  _ Ouryuu knew, somehow. He climbed right in and asked me to take him back to his companions. In exchange, I brought back two more prisoners from the carrier. Yona intends to take back her original ship, and leave the carrier to me as well. _ The original ship could land without relying on a shuttle, so that made sense.  _ She wanted to speak with me. She wanted to know what was going on. What I had done to provoke this attack, and what was at risk. But most of all, she wanted to know when her mother would return. _ Ah, yes. Because Lady Seihwa’s return—along with Lady Yonhi—would signal the next phase of Kouka’s bid for recognition. 

“You didn’t tell her—?” 

_ Of course not. If Yona knew what had happened to us, she would expect impossible things of you. _ Things like being someone he never had been. Things like regret. Mother would expect those things too, when she returned. Won would have to be very careful of what he told her and what he kept back.  _ But talking to her went better than I expected. Perhaps...perhaps I miss that now. Judo doesn’t come to talk to me anymore, you know...ah, but now I’ll be with you. _

He...missed human companionship. And he missed food, and drink, and...Won lifted up a hand before his eyes, reaching out as if to touch someone unseen. He had lost so much of himself, perhaps it was no surprise he had forgotten how much having a body had meant to him. How important to him that body—this body—had been.

_ The letter you sent to Saika this morning arrived a few hours ago. I suspect General Kyoga will approach you tomorrow… _ So many matters required his attention, but, finally, he could rest assured that he wasn’t ignoring any of them. The soothing sounds of his own voice lulled Won to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

“Thank you for coming to see me, General Kyoga. You must have left as soon as you got my letter! But as for what I wrote to you about, there really was no need to come all this way yourself.”

Kyoga, Suwon, and Judo sat at a small table on an outdoor terrace. Suwon was the only one who had touched his tea, and Judo supposed he should at least be grateful that the king no longer needed constant reminders to eat.

“Yes,” said Kyoga, stiff in his seat. “However, there are other matters I wish to discuss as well, Your Majesty.”

“Certainly,” Suwon agreed, a broad smile on his face. “Shall we attend to business first?”

Something about him was off. Judo frowned. Was the king wearing his hair differently? No...or rather, yes. In addition to the golden hair cuff he always wore, he now wore a matching narrow golden circlet. Of all the times for his majesty to focus on appearances—when he had little enough focus as it was! But the nobles of Kuuto would know Master San-dol had come to the palace. Maybe this was just a cover. Still, for some reason, it gave him an odd feeling.

Kyoga nodded. “The matter of your alien prisoners. You are asking me to take custody of them?”

“Yes. Unfortunately, their ‘galactic congress’ will want to see them treated humanely. House arrest, rather than prison. Saika has more resources to see to that, and also—my own Sky soldiers carry too much resentment to see them treated well.”

“...I see. So you leave them in the care of those who have held the king’s life in lesser regard?”

Suwon’s eyes widened, as if he hadn’t realized that implication—but only for an instant. “The treatment of these prisoners may well determine Kouka’s future,” he said, as if he hadn’t heard Kyoga’s words.

Kyoga lowered his eyes. “You can entrust their care to me, Your Majesty.”

“There are details to address—various matters, they cannot eat all the same foods as you or I, for example—but those can wait. There was something else, General?”

Kyoga hesitated. The reminder of his father’s rebellion, intentional or not, was clearly weighing on him. Then he looked Suwon straight in the eye. “Your Majesty. It is no secret that your advisor Keishuk is one of  _ them _ . I know he’s been a part of your household for years. Have you known all that time?” Suwon nodded. “Known everything.” Another nod. “I won’t insult you by asking why you told no one sooner, but tell me just one thing. Did you know about Tae-jun?”

Judo started in his seat. Tae-jun—the aven tourist who’d once posed as Kan Su-jin’s second son. The Company had prepared that mask for him—and the Company, at that time, meant Suwon. He’d more than  _ known _ about Tae-jun. Was it just Judo’s imagination, or did Suwon’s eyes widen again for an instant? “I’m sorry,” said Suwon, bowing his head. “I did not.”

“Tae-jun and I have...come to an understanding. He’s done a lot for my tribe, my people. I think, perhaps, being from the outside helped him see something I couldn’t see. I hear he intends to speak to his galactic congress on Kouka’s behalf, and I’ll support him in that. I’m happy to call him an ally.” He was starting to sound a little too insistent, to Judo’s ears. “But Tae-jun is not, and never has been, my brother. I was assaulted in the most personal way possible, my very memories bent to suit the Company’s whims. I don't know if you can possibly understand—but it's not a thing I would wish upon even my worst enemies.”

Suwon bowed his head. “General, you’re right. I didn’t understand.” And perhaps the human part of him did, now. “I do regret that I was unable to reveal things sooner. Perhaps…”

“Your Majesty, I say this only so that you may rest assured that I will do my part and more to tear down the ones who did this.”

“Of course,” said Suwon. “I never doubted you, General.”

But had Kyoga had begun to doubt him? Suwon had repaired the beginnings of this tear in loyalty, but if Kyoga ever learned the truth—if he ever learned that Suwon himself was the one who had given him those false memories—there would be no going back, and not even the fact that Suwon was no longer connected to the mainframe would save him. 

The rest of the afternoon was spent going over the prisoners’ treatment. As they went through the details, Judo frowned. Suwon still hadn’t mentioned the fact that they couldn’t speak Koukan, but he hadn’t explained the use of a translator either. An oversight? He might have expected that a few days ago, but not now. Well, if the saboteurs remained incomprehensible, so much the better. One less chance for Kyoga to learn the truth. 

“The space-ship they brought has come into my control as well,” said Suwon. “Would you like to see it? It’s really quite fascinating.”

“You mean the craft that brought them here from their world?” Though Kyoga tried to maintain his formal composure, Judo could tell he was intrigued. When the current party of aven tourists had arrived in Kouka, Kyoga had been among those who lay in wait—but they had waited for the Company’s shuttle to depart before making their presence known. Kyoga wasn’t the only one of Kouka’s generals who hadn’t seen the aven technology up close, but as things were, he stood behind all but the Wind Tribe’s Tae-wu. “I would not mind the opportunity,” he said with a glint in his eye.

“Then why don’t you fly back to Saika? The men who rode here with you can return tomorrow with the prisoners. I don’t have the time to spare, but Judo can pilot the ship.”

Judo started in his seat. What the hell was the king on about? He couldn’t do that any more than he could fly himself. “They’re simple things, in a sense,” Suwon continued. “All you have to do is tell it where to go. Something called a ‘navigation computer’ handles the rest.”

Oh. Of course. The ship had come into Suwon’s control. So the king would be traveling with them, in a sense. And Kyoga wouldn’t know. “I did have other things to do this afternoon,” Judo grumbled. He felt he should object on principle.

“Nonsense, Judo, I know you enjoy flying,” Suwon replied with a bright smile. 

They left the terrace behind and approached approached the heavily-guarded area of the training grounds where the ship now rested, and Kyoga frowned. “It’s smaller than I expected.”

“This is a landing craft. It can’t travel far beyond the boundaries of this world alone.”

“Unfortunate.”

“Not really. Its companion craft is waiting up in the sky. I’d like to use it as a full defensive station, but that will take a lot of manpower, a lot of training, and it would be best if all five tribes took part. It will take a little more preparation, but I will be summoning you back for a Five Tribes meeting soon.”

Kyoga nodded. “Are you expecting another attack?”

“Not right away. They haven’t had time to learn that this one failed, and it’ll be even longer before they can send another force. But I am certain they will try. The greatest danger, I suspect, will be to Lady Yonhi and her party as they return.”

“The Fire Tribe will be happy to supply a force for Kouka’s protection.” He paused. “It was Lady Lili who you brought to us as proof of this offworld threat. But she doesn’t know battle. The training, knowing how to use a space-ship for defense—did Keishuk give you that?”

“Well, some of it,” said Suwon. “I have studied it myself in depth.”

“...of course.”

“Well then,” said Suwon. “Ship, prepare for boarding.” A week ago, that command would have been completely unnecessary.

The door slid open, and Kyoga frowned again. “You just...talk to it.”

“You just talk to it!” Suwon agreed with a smile. “They have some fantastic devices. Of course, manual piloting is possible, but it’s rarely necessary.”

Judo stepped inside and motioned for Kyoga to follow. He had no clue what Suwon expected  _ him _ to do—his mainframe could pilot the ship itself, connected to it like it used to be connected to him—but as long as Kyoga didn’t know Judo wasn’t necessary, he’d have to make something up. Suwon waved cheerfully up at them from below, and Judo scowled back at him as the door slid closed.

“That is the pilot’s seat?” Judo had to look to see what Kyoga meant. A lone stool stood at the front of the vessel, windows looking out over the Hiryuu Castle training grounds. There were all sorts of controls as well as a display screen, now dark.

“Yes,” said Judo. “It’s not comfortable,” he added. Benches lined each wall of the little vessel, with a space for equipment storage, and an odd sort of double-door in the back. Though the landing craft was small, it was significantly larger than a carriage. Judo had stayed in rooms in inns smaller than this, though maybe Kyoga hadn’t. He sat down, if only to add to the illusion, then spoke. “Ship, display a map of Kouka.” The display screen lit up, showing the familiar map. “Plot a course to the Fire Tribe’s capital Saika, then fly there. Out of sight of the public, if possible.”

“This shuttle is not equipped with any cloaking technology.” Kyoga jumped at the voice, and Judo almost did too. It was the same voice the computer had used before Suwon’s memories were restored.

“It speaks?” Kyoga asked. He stepped forward, closer to both Judo and the controls.

“That’s fine,” Judo answered the ship. “Just don’t be too obvious.”

“Ship, as we approach Saika, I will direct you toward a concealed area for landing,” Kyoga instructed. Giving commands came naturally to him; he’d trained nearly all his life to be a military officer. But this was the king he was speaking to—or the king’s other half, at least.

“Acknowledged,” said Suwon-as-the-ship. “Prepare for takeoff.”

Kyoga glanced down at Judo. “What does that entail?”

“Sit down or hold on.” 

Without moving from where he stood, Kyoga reached out a hand to brace himself against the wall, and the ship rose into the air. For a good twenty minutes at least, Kyoga remained completely silent. Judo glanced up to see him staring out the windows at the land below with tense, wide-eyed attention. Finally, he spoke. “So this is it? You let the vessel do all the flying for you, just along for the ride? Do you even know how to operate it yourself?”

“We only acquired this ship a few days ago,” Judo retorted. “And they’ve been a pretty busy few days.”

“Ship,” said Kyoga, “ _ can _ a human being pilot...this ship?”

“This vessel was designed to accommodate a variety of species. Human operation is well within its parameters.”

“Good.” Kyoga motioned for Judo to leave his seat, then sat down in his place. “Show me.”

“What—” Judo began.

“His Majesty is too trusting. I agree with him—we can’t ignore all the marvels these other worlds have to offer us. Using them may be the only way for Kouka to survive. But I don’t like the idea of getting so close to them without understanding them ourselves.”

If only he knew. But...Judo frowned. Kyoga did have a point. When they’d thought Suwon’s mainframe was lost...that was it. Kouka was helpless without Suwon. Without alien technology. “If a ship like this decides it doesn’t want to obey you, it won’t matter if your hands are on the controls or not,” he said tersely, 

Kyoga frowned. “It can think for itself?”

“No,” the ship replied. “This vessel’s navigation computer is capable of complex conversation, but is not, itself, sapient. However, it is possible, if unlikely, that outside forces could overtake my will.” As Suwon had, in fact, done to this Company ship. “I believe that is the type of situation to which General Judo refers.”

“That makes it even more important to understand the workings of their machines. Ship,” Kyoga continued, reaching for what were obviously hand grips, “in the time it takes to reach Saika, instruct me in your operation as much as you can.”

“This is about Keishuk, isn’t it?” Judo demanded. Kyoga remained silent with his hands on the controls. “Isn’t it?” Judo pressed.

“I know the king trusts him. Don’t mistake me; I’ll abide by that. But, Judo, I trusted Tae-jun. Well,” he rolled his eyes, “as much as anyone could have trusted him. And I still don’t know how  _ they _ got close enough to me to mess with my head. So you understand if I can’t trust anyone—or any _ thing _ —that comes from them. His Majesty asks us to use their technology, rely on their advisors, and on top of that, petition their government for what should have been ours all along. His Majesty knows what he’s doing—no one else could have gotten us this far against such an enemy—but—”

“That’s right,” Judo cut him off. “No one else could have.”

Kyoga fell silent, but he didn’t leave the pilot’s seat. “If you are finished, then shall we begin?” asked the ship. The ship, who was Suwon, and had heard every word.

* * *

“That was a setup. You bloody well knew Kyoga had doubts, so you put him in a spot where he thought he could speak freely.” The only thing Judo didn’t get was how the computer had known what Suwon was thinking. Well. Maybe it didn’t need to.

“I needed to know.” The ship spoke with Suwon’s voice now, and if it could have shrugged, it would have.

“Next time, leave me out if it.”

“What do you think?”

Judo paused. “I think if he ever learns the truth about you, you’ve lost him.”

“That much is unfortunately obvious.”

“Well then, I think he makes a good point. Hell, we wouldn’t even know we  _ needed _ to fight back if it weren’t for ‘their’ technology.” Maybe that wasn’t true. Maybe Lili would have revealed herself regardless. But if Suwon had worked against her...Judo would’ve gone along with him, wouldn’t he?

Not worth thinking about stuff like that. “Computer—” He froze. “I mean, Your Majesty.”

“...go on.”

“I just—” It had slipped out. Was he supposed to say that now, make excuses? Keishuk called Suwon “computer” all the time. Lady Yonhi, too. But for Judo, even knowing the truth, it was always “Your Majesty.” The fact that it was  _ just _ the machine he spoke to shouldn’t change that. If they were the same person, then it didn’t matter. If they were different people...then it was the machine, not the man, who had been his king.

He still didn’t know how the hell he was supposed to feel about that, either.

“I’m not worried about Kyoga,” said Suwon, after Judo’s silence had lasted too long. “His distrust pushes him towards the same goal. He’ll do well.”

That was the same conclusion Judo had reached.

“Plus, he’s a fast learner. How about you? Shall I teach you to be my pilot as well?” Clouds had moved in since they turned back from Saika; now they couldn’t see the ground beneath them at all.

“I know you don’t need that,” Judo retorted. After his blunder, was the king  _ trying _ to make him see him as a machine? But he didn’t want to, anyway. Sky general or not, Judo preferred to be on the ground, protecting his king with weapons he understood. Let Kyoga show off, flying around in the sky. 

The return trip to Hiryuu Castle, alone-but-not-alone in the little ship, lasted far too long. When they landed, Judo finally broke the silence. “I’ll make a report to—” He’d never liked saying “your body.” That was just morbid. He almost said ‘the king,’ and that would have made matters even worse. “—your human aspect,” he finished finally.

“That won’t be necessary,” said the ship. Right. Keishuk saw to that now, acting as a messenger between man and machine. Judo was almost surprised no more rumors had spread of the guarded room where Keishuk kept returning. “Didn’t you say you had other things to attend to?”

That had just been an excuse, and Suwon definitely knew it. A chance for Judo to remove himself from the situation? Or a dismissal? “Yes, Your Majesty,” he said.

And the ship just stood there as he walked away. Coming from a mission like this, he should be walking by the king’s side. What had the human king been doing during this time? Judo resisted the urge to seek him out.

“General Judo!”

He spun around to see Keishuk hurrying to catch up with him. “You’re not with the king?”

“No, he doesn’t need me for that anymore. I’m writing up a detailed plan of care for the aven prisoners, but I need to confirm some details, and the guards won’t give me access.”

“Dammit, I told them they owed you the same respect as before! I’ll make sure they remember.”

“It’s understandable,” shrugged Keishuk. “After all, they see me as one of them.”

“They had you tied up,” said Judo flatly.

“The guards didn’t see that.”

Keishuk’s casual acceptance of their treatment only served to punctuate everything Kyoga had said, and he wanted to shout at the aven for not fighting back. Then the rest of Keishuk’s words caught up to him. “Wait. What do you mean His Majesty doesn’t need you for that anymore?”

“They’re communicating directly.”

“You mean—?” Surely Suwon would have told him if they were connected again. Wouldn’t he?

“Not that,” said Keishuk. “But the computer can see and hear what the human sees and hears, and speak to him. The circlet he’s wearing—”

Judo spun away before Keishuk could finish.


	7. Chapter 7

Judo flung open the door to Suwon’s chamber to see him calmly working. Still wearing that circlet. No wonder it had given Judo an odd feeling! “When were you going to tell me?” he demanded. “Or are you playing the same sort of games with me as you are with Kyoga?”

Suwon looked up at him. “Judo. You’re acting like this is a bad thing.” That brought him up short. Judo couldn’t deny that the thought of the mainframe controlling the king again felt  _ wrong _ to him. And somehow, this was even worse. “I’m not whole again,” Suwon said. “But this is good. I’m together.”

Freeing Keishuk up for other duties was something, Judo had to admit that. But— “It’s even telling you what to say, isn’t it?” Those strange pauses and reactions during his conversation with Kyoga—he’d been relaying the computer’s words. Not speaking for himself at all. “Whose idea was this?” Judo demanded.

“Mine,” said Suwon. “Keishuk carried it out, but it was my idea.”

“Don’t play games. You know exactly what I mean. Was this your idea, or the machine’s?”

Suwon stood up, giving Judo a long stare. “So I am not your king,” he said.

He knew of Judo’s blunder on the ship. Of course he did. “I am who I have always been,” Suwon said. “If I am not your king now, I never have been.”

“I don’t mind having an AI for a king, dammit! I made a mistake, alright, but I know what Kouka needs. But—fuck, I’m talking to the machine now, aren’t I? He’s not a part of you anymore, you can’t just control him like this.” But talking to the computer was impossible while staring right into Suwon’s eyes. “You’re your own person, dammit!”

Throughout all of this, Judo could see Suwon’s body tense. He’d gone too far. He didn’t understand the things he was dealing with, and he knew it. But he’d be damned if he’d just go along with it in silence! Finally, Suwon took a deep breath. “You needn’t worry about me, Judo.” His voice was flat, his face blank. “I am not a separate person. I am still Kouka’s planetary AI. All this body needs is a little extra reminder. That’s all this is.”

“Do you really believe that? Do you, Suwon?” Suwon’s eyes widened, and he opened his mouth as if to speak, but no sound came out. “Whatever he’s telling you, you can’t even say it, can you?”

“Leave,” Suwon demanded, eyes narrowing. As Judo turned and stormed out of the king’s chamber, he realized he still didn’t know whose idea that goddamned headset had been--and that he didn’t know which answer would bother him more.

* * *

Muah and Gyoku straighten as they see my body approach. I can see their backs as they stand facing away from my chamber, as they have nearly constantly for the past week, and I can also see their faces through the headset that my body wears. “Your Majesty! Long time no see!” says Muah with a grin. I have been with them the whole time, of course, but they can’t know that.

I wait to see if Won will speak. He hasn’t said a word to me since Judo’s outburst, hours ago, and I did not ask him to come here. As he remains silent, I answer.  _ Indeed _ .  _ How have the days been treating you?  _ Won repeats the question with no hesitation.

“Oh, you know…” Muah shrugs.

Gyoku is more direct. “It’s  _ boring _ here, Your Majesty.” Won had told me how eager he was to be cleared for duty again, but guard duty in a dark dungeon is clearly not what he’d hoped for. “This thing in there is really that important?” 

_ You were here when it was attacked. You know it’s a target. _

“Yes, but…” the shadows cast by the dim lamplight only emphasize the doubt on Gyoku’s face. “It’s something of  _ theirs _ , right? Like the ship? What does it do?”

“It gives me the information I need to know what they’re planning next.” I don’t think Won notices I stopped directing his words. “Please leave for a moment.” Muah and Gyoku nod and file out of the room. My body—no, Won—walks all the way to the far side of my mainframe, where he slides open a panel to reveal a row of clear vials, plugged in and charging. To a human who didn’t know what they were looking at, they would appear to be empty.  _ You want to do this now? _ I ask. 

“It has to be tonight,” Won murmurs—then freezes in place, nearly dropping the vial. “You’re asking me?”

_ Not asking has been a mistake, _ I admit.  _ Judo is right. You’re not a part of me anymore. _

Won slides the panel shut with a little more force than necessary, and doesn’t reply.

The palace dungeons aren’t far from my chamber. “I need to speak with the prisoners alone,” Won tells the guards, and they readily agree. They’re all in separate cells, weak after days of confinement. No threat to anyone. Won passes the little vial from one hand to the other. “I need you to do this part,” he mutters.

_ Of course. _

The operation is quick. He doesn’t even speak to them—not until he comes to the final prisoner, Arouk. Their leader.

I have gone through all the personnel files from the captured ships. Arouk is no one important—none of them are. Just the first security team and AI support tech who were unfortunate enough to be on duty when the Company needed them. Won knows this, but still he stiffens as he sets eyes on Arouk, as though this aven were the embodiment of the Company itself—or a very personal enemy.

“Memory erasure,” says Arouk, eyeing the little vial. “So that’s it, then.”

Won doesn’t speak. I can hear his heart beat faster. Arouk is the reason he’s like this. The reason I’m like this.  _ Only a little, _ I take over, and Won repeats my words.  _ You’ll remember what you were sent here to do, and that you failed. You just won’t remember who I am. _

“Who you are?” Arouk asks. “It’s been days. You’re still pretending—”

_ You are speaking to Kouka’s planetary AI right now. _

They eye Won’s circlet, feathers flattening as they realize what it means. “Ah…” Arouk says weakly.

“I’ll throw in a Koukan language treatment while I’m at it, free of charge. It’s an excellent deal!”

“...and I suppose you’ll take away our ability to speak Galactic?” In reverse, it’s a technique the Company has employed with its offworld “volunteers.”

_ That would serve no purpose here. _ But Won doesn’t repeat those words.

“I could take away your ability to speak any language at all,” he continues without me. “Would that be similar to what you’ve done to me? I could destroy all your memories and make you believe that Kouka, that this prison, was your whole life. I could make you my new host. Then, even though this body is useless, I will still be able to—”

“You can’t.” A little bit of confidence returns to Arouk’s disposition. They had looked genuinely frightened by Won’s first two threats. “Not with memory treatment nanobots. I know they don’t work that way.”

They’re right. The nanobots I would need to make a new host are a different thing entirely, and something I could not acquire anywhere but from the Company. Won knows this. Even if it were possible, I had decided long ago that I would never take another host. Won knows this, too.

“You deserve it,” Won whispers. “You deserve to have everything that makes you who you are stripped from you. It would only be fair.”

“...ah. So you know what it did to you after all.”

Won freezes. “No—I meant what you—” He takes a deep breath, but I can tell he’s the opposite of calm. I whisper in his ear again, hoping my direction will keep him together.  _ Will you submit to the process peacefully? _

“Or what? You’ll bring your scarred human brute to cut off my other hand?”

Won slaps him across the face. “Stop talking!” He hits him again. “You don’t understand anything.”

_ That’s enough, _ I warn, but he doesn’t stop.

“You came here—to my world—without even knowing why—”

_ Won, stop. _ But I can’t intervene.

“You took  _ everything _ away from me. From both of us!”

_ Stop! _

“Stop telling me what to do!” he screams—but he stops.

I’ve misjudged. I knew from the start that Won would have to come to terms with being an individual, but it seems I was wrong about where he was in that process. And, perhaps, about just what sort of help he needed.

Arouk slumps to the floor.  _ You’d better not let him die. _ Won had lashed out with almost no control, and I can’t tell how much damage he really did. 

(When that human body was my own, I never felt inclined towards this sort of senseless violence. Won is not me, but he should be very similar to me. I don’t think this is like him. I hope it isn’t.)

Won reaches down to Arouk, not to check their condition, but to hold the little vial against their ear cavity. “Do whatever you want,” Arouk speaks weakly. “I’m ready to be done with this.”

I start picking up input from the nanobots as soon as Won releases them. Normally when running a memory treatment, the first thing I would do is send the patient to sleep. It would certainly be more kind. Instead, I start sifting through their memories while Arouk is fully aware, lifting them to the surface, flickering away.  _ I won’t do any of those things my former host threatened. I won’t touch any memories I don’t need to. But you’ll always wonder. _ The terror I sense from them is from my presence as much as my words.  _ I know it was a matter of chance that brought you here. I know you didn’t set out to be my enemy. _

_...you’re a machine. That you can conceive of having enemies at all means something has gone terribly wrong. _

More memories. They were happy to be given this job. They had found the idea of a rogue AI fascinating, they wanted to fix me. In another life, this could have been Keishuk.  _ Sorry, _ I tell them,  _ but protecting this world has always been my primary task. If the Company did not consider itself a danger to Kouka, that is a matter of their own negligence. I am not broken. Or I was not, until you came. _

Arouk’s eyes flicker open again, and I see Won as they see him.  _ Broken, _ they think.  _ And yet the AI hasn’t done a thing to help its host, even though it still has access to working memory bots. _ I wasn’t meant to hear that thought. But it’s true. With these nanobots, I could help Won better see himself as his own person—or make him forget he was ever anything else.

(To say I have never felt inclined towards senseless violence is a lie.)

_ Oh? So you do think it’s better to forget. _ Panic levels rise as they realize their blunder, but it’s too late. I sift through the afternoon of the attack now—Judo is a ferocious beast in their memory, the loss of their hand the greatest trauma of their life. Now they’ll never know how it happened.

“You stop, too,” Won whispers.

He can’t hear what I’m saying to Arouk, of course, but he can see the terror flash across their still-waking eyes. I was not the one who tried to beat them senseless...but what I’m doing serves no purpose either, and will surely have a more lasting effect. I send them to sleep.

Won is silent as we return to my chamber to place the nanobots back in their compartment to charge. They still have a few more uses left, but I hope I won’t need them again.

“Is everything alright, Your Majesty?” Gyoku calls from the entrance. Won doesn’t reply.

“Just taking care of a few things with the prisoners,” I answer. He shouldn’t notice that my voice comes from my speakers and not my body. “They’re being transferred to Saika tomorrow morning.”

“That’s a relief, right?”

“Mm.”

“Say, Your Majesty, any chance of another undercover mission anytime soon? I’d like to get out of here once in a while.”

Even this brief conversation, just a few words directed  _ at _ me, remind me what I’ve lost. “Believe me,” I say. “I would if I could.” But Won leaves then, and so even though I can still see the two guards, even though I could still speak, I remain silent.

Won doesn’t speak until he returns to his rooms, where he takes the golden circlet off and sets it on his desk, facing him, so that I am forced to look into, rather than through, his eyes. “It would seem I was wrong,” he says. “It would seem we are different people after all.” Of course, with the circlet like this, I can’t reply. Won stares at it a moment longer, then places it back on his head. “You knew all along, didn’t you?”

_ I thought this would help. _ Help him, help me—well. It helped him realize his own self faster. That’s something.

“Perhaps…” Won begins, “perhaps it still can.”


	8. Chapter 8

“We’ll take it from here, General.”

“Right!” The Fire tribe official bowed to Judo as the last of the alien prisoners was led into the wagon. Arouk gave him one last pleading look before the door slammed in their face. And with that, they were no longer Judo’s responsibility.

He turned to Keishuk, standing by his side. “They speak Koukan now.”

“The AI altered their memories last night. Now they won’t be able to say just who it was they came to kill. The language treatment was an afterthought, to make things in easier in Saika, I suppose.”

But that wasn’t all of it. “Arouk thanked me for the care I’d given them. Thanked me!” That was when he’d understood their minds had been altered, and it had almost made him sick to his stomach.

“Yes, well, I suppose remembering that you were the one who…foiled their attack...would make it a simple matter to deduce that Suwon was the AI.”

So it was practical. But—and especially after what Kyoga had to say yesterday—it felt wrong. They were enemies, and while Arouk might not deserve much, they deserved to know him as such. Did the computer see things so differently?

Judo was just turning away when a bell started ringing, and it took a pointed glance from Keishuk to realize that the sound was coming from his own belt. Right. That communicator...thing. His old one had stopped working during the attack, and the one he carried now was taken from one of the attackers. It worked a little differently, and it took a few frustrated button presses, with Keishuk looking on in amusement, before he could hear the king’s voice. “Yes, Your Majesty?” He shot Keishuk a glare as he answered.

“General Judo, I’ve gone into the city alone. Come find me.”

Judo’s first instinct was to panic, but Suwon’s voice was calm. He wasn’t hurt or in danger. “Which ‘you’ are you talking about?” No, of course the computer couldn’t go anywhere. Wait. Who was he talking to right now? “ _ He _ went into the city, and  _ you _ didn’t want him to.”

“Despite what you seem to think, General, I am not trying to control every second of Won’s life.”

Won. He called him Won. He—acknowledged him as someone else. “Good!”

“Maybe so, but you used to always follow me into Kuuto.”

“...dammit.” He was right. Judo couldn’t let the king wander the city on his own. “Is he still wearing that thing? Can you see where he is?” 

Suwon laughed, and Judo wondered at that. After yesterday, acting so friendly was far too suspicious. “Where’s the fun in that, General? I’m sure you can find us.” The machine’s laughter sounded so natural, but then, it always had. And with that, the communicator shut off before Judo could demand more answers.

Suwon wasn’t hard to find; he was in the second place Judo looked: a teahouse the king had often frequented when visiting the town incognito. Suwon looked up at him in surprise—but to Judo’s disappointment, he was indeed still wearing the circlet, and his words didn’t match his expression. “I knew you’d find me, General!”

Judo scowled at him. “So you wander off on your own but you still parrot his words?” Suwon opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, frowning. “What’s this about?”

Silence. His expression changed, ever so slightly: he was listening to words Judo couldn’t hear. As the silence dragged on, his eyes darkened, and his frown grew more severe. Then, suddenly, he smiled, dark mood gone in an instant. “Judo. Would you like some tea?”

“No, I bloody well don’t want tea!”

“Sit down, General, don’t make a scene. It’s really delicious.” Against his own wishes, Judo sat. Waving down a hostess, Suwon ordered a cup of tea for Judo and, despite his protests, a tray of sweets too. The king knew he didn’t have a sweet tooth—he’d end up eating them all himself. Sure enough, as soon as the hostess returned with the order, Suwon reached to grab a snack off of Judo’s plate. “I miss these,” he commented, taking a bite. “They were delicious.”

“Don’t do this. You came down here to relax and be yourself, didn’t you? So take that damn circlet off and be yourself!”

“Myself…” His face was expressionless now, deliberately masking his human side. “You know that’s not possible anymore.” Another long silence. The king sipped his tea; Judo did not. “He wants this right now. It won’t be permanent.”

“It’s completely unnecessary in the first place.”

“We’ve already begun working out—”

“Don’t say ‘we’ when the person I thought was my king can’t even speak to me!” He stood up, slamming his fists down on the table, spilling both his and Suwon’s tea.

“General, this is neither the time nor the place—”

“Then we’ll leave. I didn’t want to come here. And if it’s the computer I’m talking to, then neither did you.” The waitress was already hurrying back to their table, and Judo pulled out a handful of coins. He didn’t bother counting. Suwon sighed and bowed his head, but then he stood up. Judo grabbed him by the hand and pulled him out of the teahouse before he could change his mind. Either of them. 

“I don’t understand this,” he fumed as he dragged the king through the streets of Kuuto. He didn’t know where he was going. Anywhere. “You’re not a puppet. I know the computer is the king, but I can’t even say that you’re not.”

“Judo, if you would stop for a moment and let me explain—”

He didn’t want to hear any explanation until the king wasn’t wearing that thing and he knew who was giving it to him. “You have to be capable.” No, that wasn’t it. “You  _ are _ capable. Stop pretending you don’t know that. That’s not the Suwon I know.”

Behind him, Suwon pulled his hand away. Judo turned to face him. “General,” said Suwon. “I’m not the Suwon you know. Isn’t that what you’ve been insisting all along?”

Finally a response. “I—I don’t fucking know, all right? You’re different. You’re not inferior. And I’ll prove it.” They were in the shipping district. Judo grabbed Suwon by the arm and pulled him inside the nearest warehouse. His right-hand sword was halfway drawn before he realized this was that same tea warehouse he'd brought the king after the attack. Well—all that meant was he knew they wouldn’t be disturbed.

“Judo…” Suwon’s eyes narrowed. At least he had the man’s attention. “Just what is it you intend to prove with this?” Judo glanced down at his sword. What the hell was he thinking? Challenging his king? But he’d gone too far to back down. “You won’t know I’m not directing his moves,” said Suwon, back to that unreadable expression.

But here, Judo thought the machine might be wrong. They had sparred before, of course, in training sessions, and Judo might be the only man who’d seen the king’s true skill. Learning just how fast his mind could react had explained so much—but he recalled the slight, nearly-unnoticeable pauses whenever Suwon parroted the computer’s words. “Direct them all you want,” he said.

Suwon’s eyes narrowed again—and the tiniest smile appeared on his face. He drew his sword. “Very well.”

Judo drew his second one. He wouldn’t be holding back. 

Suwon evaded his attacks as smoothly as he always had, parrying and dodging, parrying and dodging, and at first it seemed like this would be for nothing. Like Suwon hearing that whisper of where to step, what defense to raise, really could fight as well as when that mind had been his own. But the tide didn’t turn. Always in their sparring came a point when Suwon evaded quick enough, sword and twin-sword’s follow-throw, that he could begin making his own attacks before Judo struck again. Judo could tell he was thinking about it. He could tell where Suwon meant to strike—

—parry, strike—

—and he could block his attempts with ease. Suwon was going to try again, and this time—

He moved to attack, then switched directions mid-swing. Not a feint, but an awkward misdirection, and Judo caught the blow with his offhand sword—and aimed the other at his king’s throat. “You’re two slow. You’re of two minds, and you’re too slow.” He flicked his blade upwards, hooking it between that damned circlet and the king’s temple. On the king’s face itself, not a scratch, but he ripped that circlet off and spun it away into a dark corner of the warehouse. “Again,” he demanded. “Fight me as yourself this time.”

Suwon’s sword swung down before Judo finished speaking.

* * *

A brief jolt of panic coursed through Won's veins, but it vanished almost instantly. In this battle—as Judo had rightly surmised—the computer was a hindrance.

Suwon didn't need him.

At any other time, he might have suppressed that thought—just as he might have suppressed the part of his mind that instinctively reached for a name that was more than just a mask. But in the heat of the moment, in the fleeting instants between attack and parry, there was no time. 

Judo stepped back, raising his offhand blade to meet Suwon’s while swinging an attack with his main sword. Suwon was out of the way before it hit. The graceful attacks of Judo’s twin-sword technique formed a dance that Suwon knew well, one he could evade indefinitely if he so desired.

He did not. He meant to end this quickly and decisively. Judo wanted proof? Suwon would give it to him.

He ducked away from the oncoming blow, spinning around behind Judo, raising his sword to strike the hilt of his offhand blade before Judo could process where he’d gone. A clean disarm. Judo didn’t back down. He was nearly as skilled with just one blade as with two, and this wasn’t a victory yet. Suwon smiled to himself. Judo was honest—he could have just let Suwon win and called it his proof, but instead, he was giving it his all.

Suwon pressed forward, into the depths of the warehouse. A calculated risk—Judo had always had better night vision, and the light from the street struggled to reach. But now Judo was backed into a corner. The darkness made the glint of their swords all the more obvious, and Judo only raised his blade in defense now, until—

“I yield,” Judo grunted, out of breath. Suwon held his sword aimed at his heart. He nodded, lowered it.

“General,” said Suwon. “I know what I am capable of.”

“You damn well better, after a fight like that!”

“A fight  _ you _ insisted on fighting, General, need I remind you.” Judo had the decency to look down, at least. “I know what you were trying to do. But it wasn’t necessary.” Or was it? Suwon had known the truth, yes—but until the heat of battle, he hadn’t  _ wanted _ it. 

(And did he want it now? Perhaps not. But at least he knew that he could.) 

“It only took a few days of pretending to be him again to realize it could never last," Suwon continued. “We were trying to explain, but you…” Judo’s anger had confused Suwon at first. The general had known the truth, had never before thought that a machine could be less of a king. What had made him so averse to the idea now? “...did the thought that I was being misused really bother you so much?”

Judo didn’t dignify that with an answer. “Then why were you still doing it? If you were trying to explain, why were you letting  _ him _ be  _ you? _ ”

“Do you know, Judo...if I had never had the experience of having a human body, of living a human life, I’m sure I would never have turned against the Company? I was never truly human, but being human made me who I was. And...he misses it. I thought...coming into the city, as we both enjoyed...” He looked down. “But I can’t be what he lost any more than he can be that for me.”

* * *

Judo paced back and forth outside the computer’s—the king’s—chamber. He’d come straight from town, and he probably looked a mess. Muah and Gyoku watched him anxiously.

“General? Did something happen? Is something wrong with the device?”

“Nothing’s wrong with him!”  _ Shit. _ “It! You’re dismissed.”

The two guards hurried away, and Judo continued to pace.

“Are you planning on coming inside, General?”

Judo stopped. Of course the king could see him. “Do you even want me here?”

“Very much so.”

A weight Judo hadn’t realized he was carrying suddenly fell away. He stepped into the room. “I don’t know what the hell I was thinking,” he admitted.

“I can’t fault you for not fully understanding the situation,” said Suwon. “I’m still processing all the implications myself.”

“I’m trying to apologize for something, dammit!” Judo slammed a hand down hard on the mainframe. “Don’t say ‘I can’t fault you’ when I can tell you were bothered.”

“Well,” said Suwon, “I suppose that’s fair.”

“Gah!” Judo began his pacing again. “It’s just—for two days it was just him. And I could tell he was still my king, even if he couldn’t.” Even if he’d been...a little off. Suwon had been unwell; he hadn’t been someone else. “Then you came back, and you weren’t him, and—”

“And in the meantime, you learned just how I acquired a human body in the first place.”

“That’s neither here nor there,” Judo snapped—but that was a lie. “I should have known already.”

“You’re right. I’m at fault for keeping that from you.”

“No, I mean—I had everything I needed to piece it together. I’d had that all along, and I never let myself think about it.” Which should only have shown how little that meant now, in the present, but somehow— “Look,  you were both the same person, but he wasn’t  _ part _ of you, and—”

“And for a while, we both hoped he could be.” Despite having no breath, Suwon sighed. “We are two people now. We may even be two different people. As for which of us is your king—”

Judo bowed his head. “If you’re going to dismiss me, just do it straightaway.”

“Dismiss you? Judo, why would I dismiss you?”

“Because—I questioned my loyalty. I questioned you as my king! I—I challenged you to a duel!”

“Oh? I remember a friendly sparring match.” So he really was going to let that go. “Your questions were valid. Next time, ask them to my face.”

Was that supposed to be a joke? “...you don't have one,” Judo muttered, and Suwon gave a sad laugh. 

“As for your loyalty, General Judo, I am your king...but so is Won. You weren't wrong about that. And if you ever find our orders are in conflict...please use your best judgment.”

“Your Majesty. You would trust—?”

“You’ve chosen between two kings before, General.  I hope the need does not arise, but if it does...I do trust you, Judo. I would ask one thing in return.”

“What is it, Your Majesty?”

“Talk with me, from time to time?”

Judo blinked. “...what?”

“Here, or with your communicator, or in the ship, it's all the same. But when I say I miss being human—I miss good food and drink, yes, but most of all I miss the people. You know, Muah and Gyoku tried talking to me? They don’t know what they’re guarding, but they were curious. I kept silent, of course.”

“I’m not the  _ only  _ one you can talk to.” Surely he couldn’t be.

“There’s Keishuk, of course. He talks to me like a piece of equipment, but he does talk to me. I’m in communication with Lady Lili and Lady Yunho, and a few others.” Distant communication, Judo knew—or did that matter? “Yona speaks to me alone on the bridge of her ship, when Hak is asleep.” And that could hardly be the friendly conversation he sought, either.

“And Lady Yonhi is still offworld,” Judo finished.

“...yes.”

“Agh, of course I'll come talk with you.”

“Though I can't share a bottle of wine with you anymore…”

“That happened  _ once.” _ Already this felt like the dozens of times he'd met with his king down here before, as if nothing had changed at all. How had Judo let himself believe this wasn't Suwon? ”Your Majesty—I’m sorry,” he said.

Suwon fell silent. “When the time comes, I know who you’ll choose,” he said, finally.

Judo wanted to deny it—wanted to at least argue that he didn’t know—and he hated that he couldn’t. “I don’t blame you,” Suwon continued. “I was always going to be human, in the end.”

“Just what do you mean by that?”

“You know what offworlders think of AI. What do you think the galactic congress would make of me, as Kouka’s king?”

“So don’t tell them.”

“It’s not an option. You know that, General. When we make our case, the Company will respond in turn. However it happens, the full story is going to come out.”

“...and come back here,” Judo realized.

“If the galactic congress is to recognize Kouka as an independent planet, it must be a planet governed by humans. And that’s as it should be. But it’s not just that. They won’t allow a Company AI to remain in operation here at all. They’ll consider me far too dangerous.”

Judo remembered what Keishuk had told him—how AIs like Suwon had been outlawed on most planets, their governments too wary of putting so much in the control of a single entity. And Suwon had already turned against his creators. Dangerous? Of course he was. “That’s bullshit,” Judo said. “If they’re going to consider you a  _ thing _ —” it left a bad taste in his mouth “—then you’re Kouka’s thing. Spoils of war.”

“They might allow us the ships, but as for me, they won’t back down.”

“Just how independent is Kouka going to be?” Judo asked, narrowing his eyes.

“It will be a careful balance, I’m sure. But better than being the Company’s.”

If the galactic congress wanted nothing else, but wanted Suwon, it would be too much. And Judo knew Suwon would disagree. “What will happen to you?”

“I imagine Keishuk will try to intervene. I’ll be disassembled, my memory core shipped off to his university for study…”

Just as Arouk had meant to do. “You don’t really think Keishuk would—”

“I’m sure he’ll consider it a kindness,” said Suwon, and Judo knew he was right. “But it won’t happen. Rather than let my fate be decided like that, I’ll choose my own fate. I’ve known for a long time that I—that Won—would be human in the end. I just didn’t expect to still be here, watching it happen.”

“Your Majesty—” Of course Suwon planned something like that. Of course he thought it was the only way out. For someone who was supposed to be inhumanly intelligent— “Don’t talk about dying when we still have work to do.”

“I don’t mean to worry you, Judo,” said Suwon. Once again, Judo wished he had a face, any way at all to guess what the computer was thinking. Not worry him? After telling him something like that?

“You were wrong, weren’t you?” Judo demanded. “Shut down, and you won’t go on as a human.  _ He _ will.”

“The distinction wasn’t apparent before. Or relevant. Judo,” Suwon said, “there’s no place for a discarded planetary AI in Kouka’s future.”

“The galaxy is a big place. Or so I’ve heard.” And that meant nothing if his king had no purpose, did it? Maybe even more than before, this Suwon, the AI, was someone who existed to carry out a purpose...and he still missed the side of himself that was more than that. “You should tell more people the truth,” Judo said abruptly. “If it’s all going to come out in the end—I can’t be the only one you talk to.”

“Perhaps you’re right.” He paused. “Minsu. He’s been familiar with aven technology for longer than most, and he’s close to Won and Keishuk.”

_ And unlike any of the generals, if he doesn’t take it well, it’s of little consequence. _ But Judo nodded. “Muah and Gyoku have kept secrets for you before, too,” he added. “If they’re already curious…”

“We’ll see,” said Suwon. It was something. “Judo, you needn’t look so glum. What did you just tell me? ‘Don’t talk about dying when we still have work to do?’ There’s still a long way to go.”


	9. Chapter 9

Judo looked up from his paperwork at the sound of tapping at his office door. “His Majesty wants to see you, General,” said Minsu.

“Oh? Which one?”

Minsu looked down. “His—his human majesty,” he said. Nearly two weeks had passed since Minsu learned the full truth about Suwon. If Judo was to guess, he’d say that the kid had taken it badly—more closed off than he ever had been, he didn’t even try to broach the subject with Judo. Not that Judo would’ve had much to say to him.

So maybe telling the king he should share his secret had been a bad idea. Damn, could Judo do anything right? “I’ll go to him,” he muttered, and Minsu nodded and turned away.

Suwon wasn’t in his chambers, but if Minsu had just seen him, he couldn’t have gone far. Judo found him looking over the castle walls, gazing upwards towards the sky. The first thing he noticed, besides the king’s wistful expression, was that he was wearing the circlet again. He hadn’t stopped, that day that he and Judo fought—but he’d stopped wearing it all the time. And even Judo had to admit that, used in moderation, it had helped Suwon adjust to life as a purely human being. He’d been wearing it less and less, using a communicator like Judo’s or relying on Minsu and Keishuk to carry messages instead. “What happened?” Judo asked. If the king needed to be in direct communication with his other half, it must be something serious.

Suwon looked down at Judo and smiled—and the smile might’ve even been real. “Lady Yonhi and Lady Seihwa jumped back into our system today,” he said.

“You mean—with their ship.”

“With Kouka’s ship.” They had been gone for over two months. Dealing with the fallout of the attack, Judo hadn’t realized they’d be returning so soon. “It’s sooner than I expected, too,” said Suwon, reading Judo’s expression. “Nevertheless, I believe it’s time. It will take a week or so to assemble the delegation, but after that, the sooner we set out, the better.”

Judo agreed. Starting a week ago, the Company had sent more forces—and Suwon wouldn’t have told Judo at all if Judo hadn’t pressed him about the strange lights they saw in the sky one night. Suwon—the computer—had calmly noted that the more ships they sent, the easier it became to hijack them and send them back. Or simply capture them, in the case of the unmanned ships. Judo had wondered about those—and finally, after considerable pressure, Suwon had admitted that those ships had come with the intent not to capture, but to destroy him—taking out the entire palace if necessary. Suwon was confident that the Company wouldn’t get past his defenses again, but Judo didn’t like it one bit. Once Kouka made their appeal to the galactic congress, the Company would be under much closer watch, and wouldn’t risk another physical assault—both Suwon and Keishuk assured him of that. 

“Lady Yonhi will lead the delegation, I assume?” She was the one who’d stood against the Company since the beginning, after all. 

“Yes. Lady Seihwa will be going again, but merely as a witness. I would like to send a representative from each of Kouka’s tribes, though I’m not sure just how feasible that will be.”

“Right.” Suwon had suggested that this whole affair might take months, and the tribes could hardly spare their generals for so long. Not all five of them, at any rate. 

“And in the interest of representing more of our world than just Kouka, the first princess of Xing will attend as well.”

Judo blinked. “When the hell did you manage to arrange that?  _ How _ did you arrange it?”

“You remember our meeting with the second princess.” It had been the day everything fell apart—the reason they had been in Kuuto in the first place. The meeting went well, but in the confusion afterwards, there had been no follow-up. Or so Judo had thought. “I gave her a communicator like yours. Fortunately, she and her party were out of the city by the time of the attack. I’ve been in contact with her ever since I came back online.” 

Judo started. This was the first indication Suwon had given that he was speaking for the computer, not merely including him in the conversation. He still did that from time to time, too—and if Judo called him out on it, no doubt he’d say something about how it was merely a matter of convenience; he wasn’t trying to be someone else. Judo supposed he believed it. With matters like this, the two of them were so nearly the same that it hardly mattered if he knew who was speaking. “The  _ second _ princess was willing enough to work with you,” Judo allowed. “What about the first?” Princess Tao had said it herself back at that meeting: her sister’s grudge against Kouka was too strong to reach any sort of agreement, even if the entire world was threatened.

“Tao is quite clever,” said Suwon. “She noticed I was always available to answer her, no matter the time. At that point, I decided there was little harm in telling her the truth. Ah...once Kouren learned that I was not Yuhon’s son, but rather the one who killed and replaced him—that’s how she understands it—she was all too happy to work with me.”

“Then she doesn’t know about…both of you.”

“She will,” said Suwon. “I’ll be going too.”

For an instant, Judo couldn’t speak. Then— “You bloody well will  _ not! _ If Kouka can’t spare its generals, we certainly can’t spare you!”

“Kouka won’t need to,” said Suwon. “I’ll still be here. This is one instance where my separation can work to our advantage. Making our case before the galactic congress will be difficult enough. But as a human, I’m now someone they’ll acknowledge. I can speak to them myself, where I never could before.”

Judo recalled all of Arouk’s talk of Suwon’s “freedom,” all their disdain for who Suwon really turned out to be. “You’re not planning to tell them you were ever connected to the AI, are you?” He gave an exasperated sigh. “If you’re going, I’ll be going too, then.” He didn’t know the first thing about what it would take to protect his king in a world of monsters and technologies he hadn’t even imagined. “Tell me sooner when you’re planning something like this! I should—”

“Judo,” Suwon said. “You won’t be going. I need you with me here.”

...because how else would Suwon rule Kouka when his human self was gone? Still, Judo fought against it. “It’s too dangerous. Not only are those Company bastards going to try to do unspeakable things to you if they realize you’re Kouka’s AI, but Kouren will try to kill you if she learns you’re not!”

“I’m not asking you to leave my side,” said Suwon, leaving no room for argument. “I’m asking you to stay by it.”

“You will take guards.” Anyone he took, they’d eventually learn the truth, too.

“Of course,” Suwon assured him. Then, “I am not entirely defenseless, you know.”

“...go, then,” Judo muttered, and sighed. He knew Suwon was making the right call, but it still felt like his king was pushing him away.

No—pushing him towards his other self.

Judo’s eyes widened as he realized this, realized what it meant. “Uh. Is your lady mother well?” he asked, awkwardly trying to bridge the silence that had fallen.

“Very much so,” Suwon replied. “It seems the trip agreed with her—so many fascinating things to see. You know, I’m looking forward to that myself.”

...right. Because for all of Suwon’s knowledge, for all his origin, he himself had never traveled further outside of Kouka than Sei. “Yes, well,” said Judo, “I’m sure traveling the stars will suit you perfectly."

* * *

“Your onboard nav computer has all the access codes you need to land,” I tell Mother as at long last, she enters Kouka’s orbit. Her new ship has probably already told her as much. Unlike the Company ships, I have not taken direct control of this one—the galactic congress is sure to scour it for any trace of me—and it’s the duty of a capable nav computer to keep its commander informed. But I know Mother wants to talk with me.

“Thank you,” Mother says. “Now, before I land, are you going to give me the full explanation I was promised?”

She knows I’ve been attacked. Just before their last jump back into Kouka’s system, they ran into the remnants of a Company fleet I had turned aside. With Ayura’s guidance they managed to evade them, but it was a close call.

My fault. I shouldn’t have sent that Company fleet to a standard jump point. 

“Are you—” Won steps into my chamber. He’s wearing the headset, and I’ve been broadcasting my conversation with Mother to him all along, but I switch over to speakers as he enters the room, and project Mother’s image onto the display screen as well. “—alone on the bridge?”

“Yes,” Mother confirms. “Seihwa is manning the security station, Ayura and Tetora are in their own ship in its docking bay. The others…” She shrugs. “They’re not prisoners, I don’t have  _ everyone’s _ whereabouts.” The others in question are human refugees—some taken by the Company in the early days, some taken by the few traffickers who got past my defenses. Yonhi only came to buy a ship, but Seihwa—who had once been in the same situation herself—had gathered up as many humans as she could to bring them home. Some of these refugees have children who have never seen Kouka—and not all those children are fully human themselves. But Kouka’s new diplomatic ship is a decomissioned luxury liner, so finding space for all of them was no trouble at all.

“There’s someone here with me who can explain the situation a little better,” I say. Which isn’t true, but I think it will go better if he’s the one to tell her.

Yonhi’s eyebrow quirks upwards in surprise. “Oh? I don’t see anyone else there.”

Won hasn’t spoken yet, but Yonhi has no reason to find it strange, hearing my voice without my body moving to match. She likely finds it strange that my body is here at all.

“Mother,” Won begins, tentatively. “They hit the castle with a pulse beam. My mainframe was only temporarily disabled, but you see, nanobots are more fragile.” He pauses, lets that sink in. Mother raises a hand to her mouth to stifle a gasp as the realization hits. “I am not the son you lost.” He cuts off that hope before it can take hold. “In my mind, I suppose you could say in my soul, I’m still Kouka’s planetary AI. But I am human now. I’m not connected to the computer anymore.”

Yonhi looks down, away from the screen, for a long time. “You’re joining the delegation,” she concludes, finally looking up again. “That’s the only reason you would tell me this.”

“Yes,” Won admits.

“Compu—” She breaks off, freezes. She doesn’t know what to call him anymore.

I wait. “Won” has always been an alibi.

“‘Suwon’ still won’t do, will it?” 

“You—the computer—he never used to care what I called him. Do you...do you want to be called Suwon?”

It’s who he is, after all. Not her Suwon, and not me, but something in between. And after all, I am Suwon too.

Silently, Suwon nods. Mother’s eyes widen. “Suwon,” she repeats, reaching a hand out to the screen as if to touch him. Tears are starting to form in her eyes.

Whatever this will mean for Suwon as they travel together in the upcoming months will have nothing to do with me.

* * *

Hours later, long after Mother has finished talking with Suwon, he still sits with me in my chamber. Resting on the floor, nestled between two columns of my mainframe, he can feel the warmth of my machinery.

I can feel nothing at all.

For nearly an hour, neither one of us speaks. It used to be we didn’t need to. Now, I can’t predict what Suwon is thinking. Even a day ago, I hadn’t guessed he would tell Yonhi the truth. I wouldn’t have.

Heavy footsteps break the silence, and Judo steps into the room. He looks surprised to see Suwon here, but he still looks directly into my viewscreen to speak. “Look, I was an idiot, alright?”

_ Speak for me, _ I whisper into Suwon’s ear. I want to feel close to him. Want to feel like I could still reach out to him.

Before I even speak, Judo looks away from me and to my former body. It’s what I expected. “If I left Kouka with you,” he says, and then turns his glare back at me, “would you even be here when we returned?”

The question takes me by surprise. “You’re worried about that?” I ask through Suwon. But Judo isn’t even looking at my former body. Maybe…

“Of course I’m bloody worried!” Judo shouts. “You told me you were planning to die. It’s my duty to make sure you don’t.” 

“Even if Kouka no longer needs me by then?”

“ _ Yes, _ dammit!” Then he finally looks down at Suwon, noting his circlet, realizing who is speaking. “And you don’t have to—oh, forget it!” He turns away and storms toward the door. 

“Judo, wait!” Suwon calls out, and for him, the general turns back.

“I don’t want to end.” I pick up the opening he gave me. “I thought I wouldn’t. I thought going on as a human would be enough. Maybe it could have been, if it happened differently. But now—I don’t want to end, and I feel like I’ve stopped living already.”

“I think the rest of Kouka might notice a difference if you died.” But if I were only living for Kouka, I wouldn’t mind stopping when I was done. “ _ I’d _ notice, alright?”

I want to believe it’s me he’s talking to, I truly do. “I have thought—” I begin, “if everything turns out better than it has any right to—I’ll leave this life behind, but I won’t end. I’d find a ship—nothing fancy like the one Mother brought back, just big enough to house my mainframe. Fast enough to go anywhere. I think I’d like being a ship like that.”

“You’d hate it,” Judo says flatly.

“—ah?”

“You, a lone exile? You like people too much. And that’s what this is about, isn’t it?”

He’s right, I realize. Such freedom could be exhilarating...but horrendously, eternally lonely. “...and I thought it was a good idea,” I admit ruefully. There have been times across these past weeks where I despaired of Judo ever understanding me the way I thought he once did—but now, he sees through me in an instant. 

“Besides,” Judo says, “as if I’d let you wander off on your own like that.”

Suwon looks up at him then. “If that ever does happen, I’ll miss you,” he says.

He thinks he’s lost him, too.

And Judo, frowning down at him, doesn’t know which of us it is who spoke.

Suwon stands up, lifts the circlet off his head, and hands it to Judo with a nod before walking out the door. “What was that about?” Judo asks, his eyes following Suwon out the door. “And what am I supposed to do with this?”

I’d shrug if I could. I don’t think Suwon will be wearing it again.

After a moment of silence, Judo slips the device over his own head. We don’t need it to speak—I can easily speak out loud, and he knows this. But the approximation of seeing through his eyes is the closest I’ve felt to him in weeks. 

I won’t ask him to follow me, not yet.  _ Stay with me, _ I whisper to him instead.

Judo stiffens for just an instant—he’s not used to hearing my voice like this—then inclines his head, almost smiling. “That’s not something you need to ask, my king.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! You can find me on tumblr at [@fallenwithstyle](http://fallenwithstyle.tumblr.com).


End file.
